FitzSimmons Drabbles
by Jmags-WriterofAwesomeness
Summary: Stories I've written from requests Tumblr users have sent to me. The whole collection is rated T, but I will specify when one is M-rated. Feel free to PM me or review if you want me to write something in particular!
1. Lasers Aren't Play Toys, Fitz

_So in order to get my creative juices flowing again, I occasionally take FitzSimmons prompts on tumblr from other users and write a (sometimes) short story based on what they give me. Some are longer than others, but I've decided to post them all on here and on AO3 so that I can keep track of them and they don't just get lost in the big internet vacuum that is Tumblr lol. However, if any of you want me to write a FitzSimmons drabble, feel free to PM me or review this story! I'm always looking for new ideas and I would really like to start challenging myself daily with prompts so my writing can improve over time._

 _This particular one was requested by an Anon for a "send me a sentence" post I did one day. These were the sentences: "Ugh, Fitz. First, I didn't even dissect the dead monkey, so calm down." and "LEOPOLD FITZ!" after something gets set on fire by one of Fitz's lasers. Actually, I think she meant for them to be together in the drabble but I set them apart to make this easier to write. I hope you enjoy this fluffy little piece! :)_

* * *

 **~Set during 1x03 of Agents of SHIELD~**

"Fitz, what the-"

Simmons grimaced and shielded her face with her hands as she dodged one of Fitz's laser beams. "What in the world do you think you're doing?"

Fitz grinned cheekily as he continued to maneuver the green light around her. "Trying to get your attention. Why else would I be doing this?"

"Because you are a _child_ ," Simmons retorted, rolling her eyes. "And recess is over. Coulson wants these weapons to be field-ready by the end of the day and we've barely made any progress!"

Clearing his throat, Fitz moved slightly to the side to reveal the multitude of weapons that he had finished putting together earlier that morning. "I don't know, this looks like progress to me…" He raised an eyebrow and smirked at his flustered lab partner. "Maybe it's you that's being the slow-poke!"

Simmons gasped. "Well excuse me for paying close attention to protocol and procedure! The dendrotoxin formula is sensitive to even the slightest changes in chemical structure and the most subtle shift in the reagent amounts could have catastrophic consequences."

He laughed as he watched Simmons fiddle with her laboratory equipment. "That sounds a bit exaggerated. Did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?"

"No," she huffed. "But it _might_ be because we almost died yesterday during an attack on our plane headed by a power-hungry Peruvian general and we need to be readily prepared if such an event were to happen again!"

"This is what we signed up for, Simmons! It was your idea to go into the field in the first place!"

Simmons froze in place as a realization dawned on her. "Ohh, I see why you're doing this. You're getting back at me for that whole 'dead monkey' thing, aren't you?"

Fitz gaped at her. "What are you talking about? I'm not _that_ immature, thank you very much. And you were the one that found the dead monkey on the side of the path in Peru and rambled on and on about how you'd _love_ to study the peculiar digestive systems of the woolly spider monkey!"

"Ugh, Fitz! I was never going to dissect it anyway! It was just an innocent comment, nothing more!"

"That poor deceased monkey deserved to rest in peace without hearing about your plans to exploit his kind. I'm _scarred_ now, Simmons, scarred! _"_

She snorted and averted her attention back to her test tubes filled with dendrotoxin. "You're ridiculous."

Unfortunately for Simmons, she couldn't even experience a minute in peace with her work before she heard a high-pitched screech behind her and the sound of paper catching fire.

 _Oh, that better not be what I think it is._

But it was. Her most recent notes on the cheical composition of dendrotoxin were now the fodder for a lovely campfire on the middle of the holo table. All Simmons could do was stare with horror and utter disbelief as Fitz grabbed the fire extinguisher and sprayed it all over the flames.

The few seconds after the fire were incredibly uncomfortable, as if everyone was anticipating a volcano to erupt at any moment. Fitz was ogling his "ordinary" pen, complete with a laser pointer that could set things on fire if focused on one point for too long, while Ward and Skye, who had been training in the garage, had stopped to watch their argument with amusement.

Seeing that Simmons was about to boil over, Fitz cleared his throat and gingerly put the pen down alongside his other weapons. "I think… er, now would be an appropriate time to offer you my assistance."

"LEOPOLD DOUGLAS FITZ!"

And that's the story behind why Fitz's lasers were confiscated (by none other than Simmons) from the lab for an entire week following the incident.

* * *

 _Inspiration for this came from a scene in this episode when Fitz/Iain was shining a light into Jemma/Elizabeth's face. Got 3-4 more ones to post after this one so I'll post 1-2 daily for the next couple of days._


	2. An Imperfect Proposal

_Prompt: "Why do you have a ring box in your coat pocket?" Sentence prompt sent by katiebug0410_

* * *

 **~Set after an undisclosed period of time after the events of 3x10~**

Perfection was everything for FitzSimmons- it has been for years now. They were the youngest to graduate from the SHIELD Academy, they always earned the highest marks in their courses, and the products that originated from their teamwork were always top-notch, utilized often by the big names in science and technology. Given their reputation, the pressure to be perfect was overwhelming, to say the least.

However, ever since the events that had occurred underwater in the pod, perfection was the least of FitzSimmons's concerns. That last year and a half had been anything but perfect as they struggled to reconnect with themselves, with each other, and with the other people that mattered the most to them. But the air of supremacy still existed somewhere within the confines of the FitzSimmons relationship, surfacing in a more subtle characteristic: the eagerness to please each other. Fitz wanted to live up to every "expectation" he thought Simmons had of him, and vice versa. And eventually, all of those misconceptions snowballed into a perfectionism that was never spoken about because it didn't need to be discussed: it was just constantly _there_ , looming inconspicuously in the background.

So it didn't come as much of a surprise to Fitz when he had trouble finding the beset way to propose to Jemma; they had only been dating for six months, yes, but it was during those months that they had finally reached a point of stability that had been absent from their lives for too long. Although stability doesn't last long when you're an agent of SHIELD, Coulson giving them two months of paid work leave to enjoy the simplicity of a small cottage in Perthshire helped them to work out the issues that had been standing between them for far too long. And Fitz had to pull a lot of strings to convince Coulson to give them the night of (what with the team fighting off the Inhuman zombie that used to be Ward), but the director relented after Fitz told him the hidden purpose of the date.

It was going to be perfect. This night _had_ to be flawless.

After everything Jemma had been through on Maveth, she deserved that much from him.

* * *

"Well, _that_ didn't go as planned," Jemma laughed as she wrung the water out of her hair. "Though I must say that was one of the most entertaining dates I've been on in a while."

"Yeah, I'm sure it was," Fitz muttered, hiding his face from her in shame. Of course everything had to go wrong on the most important night of his life. The waiter just _had_ to conveniently spill red wine all over Jemma's new white dress almost immediately after they had sat down at their table. Of course the band was playing just a bit too loud for them to have a decent conversation with each other, and by then it seemed equally appropriate for them to get rained on after they left the restaurant. Caught red-handed with no umbrellas in their possession, they had to sprint to the limo in order to prevent themselves from getting absolutely drenched.

At least it was the tiniest bit reassuring that Jemma was able to find the humor in it all, and he couldn't help but watch her with awe as she had laughed at the stormy clouds above, dancing and twirling in the rain as if she was a little schoolgirl again. How she could once again see the goodness in everything after all the horror and unrelenting peril she had experienced before ceased to amaze him. But that didn't stop him from chickening out on the proposal plan, which only fueled his internal frustration and anger even more.

"Oh, come on, Fitz, lighten up! We finally got a night out together! It's been _weeks_ since we've had that time to ourselves." She affectionately messed with his hair, giggling as he shook his head violently in return and what water was left in his hair splashed onto her uncovered arm. "How about we change out of our wet clothes and make some hot chocolate?"

He couldn't help but grin at her suggestion. She had known for years that he could never say no to anything that had the word "chocolate" in it. "With the mini marshmallows in it?"

Jemma raised an eyebrow at him. "Is there any other acceptable way to drink it?"

He managed to surmount his sour mood and thought about the promises of the later hours as he caressed her hand. "Okay, I'll meet you in the kitchen in ten?"

Her white teeth seemed to sparkle under the bright lights of the Playground as she smiled and leaned in to kiss him. "Wait a second…"

She froze as her hand brushed over a lump in his jacket pocket. "Fitz, what is this?" The bewilderment on his face just further confirmed what she had already figured out. "Were you planning on…"

"-I was going to, yes," Fitz admitted. "But it wasn't the right moment! Everything was a complete and utter disaster!"

Jemma just stared at him, wide-eyed, and Fitz took the opportunity to grasp her shoulders. "You deserve better than that, Jemma. You deserve a perfect proposal with soft, romantic music and people clapping in the background as we kiss. And I just…couldn't do it."

Her expression softened as she stroked the stubble on his cheek. "Oh Fitz, none of what happened today was your fault. And don't you dare blame it on the cosmos again."

Fitz huffed and rolled his eyes. He said it one time and she still chastises him for even thinking of the absurdity in the first place. But he continued to gaze at her as she glanced down at her ruined dress. "Tonight was perfect because I was with _you_. Who cares about flower petals and romantic music and all of those things? You're acting like I want to be some willy-nilly girl in a romantic comedy!"

Humbled, he looked down at the ground as the tips of his ears turned red. "Erm, I- I didn't know," he stuttered. "I just wanted to make things special, that's all."

When he finally found the courage to look at her again, her grin seemed to stretch from one ear to another. "If you ask me, I consider this particular moment to be pretty special. Wouldn't you agree?" Before he could answer, she nodded her head at the box in his jacket pocket. "Go on. Ask me."

"Oh. O-okay." He gulped loudly and his fingers trembled as he pulled the box out and got on one knee. He stumbled through the speech he had rehearsed a million times earlier in his room, he struggled to get the ring box open, and he almost cried upon seeing Jemma melt into a puddle of happy tears right in front of him. Nonetheless, she had flung herself at him barely after he had finished popping the question, peppering his face with kisses and filling his ears with maniacal repetitions of "Yes!"

The proposal was anything but perfect…yet in a way, it was. Perfectly imperfect, that is.

* * *

 _Oh god, that last line was so cheesy, but I couldn't help myself! :P (And I should really rename this story "How-many-times-can-I-use-the-word-perfect-without-being-annoyingly-repetitive"). Please review if you can! And/or give me a FitzSimmons for me to write, if you want to :)_


	3. (Adult) Fun with Paint

_Prompt from thelatenightstoryteller: Fitz or Jemma decided they want to paint the other (for some reason?) but the other can't stop giggling._

 _This is an M-rated prompt because of sexual references and partial nudity. It could be considered T (I doubt it though), but because of all the innuendos, I'm doing this just in case._

* * *

"Jemma…" Fitz eyed the small container of edible paint in his girlfriend's hands warily. "When you said you wanted to 'spice up our sex life,' this wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

She raised her eyebrow at him. "And what exactly were you thinking we should do instead?"

Caught with his foot in his mouth, he blushed. "Nothing, forget I said anything in the first place."

The topic had sprung up between them after Jemma had a rather scintillating "girl time" conversation with Daisy, much to Fitz's chagrin. He wasn't exactly proud of his prude status and he knew that girls talked about this kind of stuff with each other, but he couldn't help but feel self-conscious about this particular subject. Daisy was a good friend and everything, but she didn't need to know _that_ much about their relationship.

"Ugh, Fitz," Jemma rolled her eyes and placed the container of green on their bed. "Don't tell me you were thinking of using dildos again."

Her (spot-on) accusation caused his face to turn even redder. "Um…maybe?"

"Uh-uh. We're not doing that. I'm sure it's pleasurable and everything, but I refuse to have some foreign object that's been god-knows-where in my body! Do you know how easy it is for a girl to get a bacterial infection when it penetrates her vagina? And washing the dildo with soap and water doesn't guarantee its sterility, mind you."

"Yes, you've told me a million times whenever we've had this conversation," Fitz groaned, hiding his face behind his hands. "Please drop it."

Fitz watched Jemma smirk at him triumphantly. _Oh no, here it comes. There's always a catch._ "Only if we try out the edible paint tonight."

 _Aaaand there it is._ That sneaky little minx. "Alright," he sighed in defeat, mock-putting his hands up in surrender. "But I get to use the paint on you first."

"Not a problem!" And before he could even open the container, Jemma had whipped off her shirt and thrown it behind her. "Start wherever you want."

 _Whoa. Someone is eager._

Fitz froze for a moment as he took in her dark purple bra and the gentle curve of her hips before clearing his throat and forcing himself to focus on the paint instead. Seeing that Jemma came prepared, he chose to open the three other containers as well, just in case he wanted to get creative. His eyes widened when he realized he had overlooked something. _Three different paint brushes? Really?_

"Oh, fuck it," he muttered under his breath, picking a brush and coating it with red.

"That is the point of all of this, right?"

Startled, Fitz's head shot up at the sound of Jemma's melodious giggle. _How did she hear that?_ Nonetheless, her demeanor was amusing to him and he couldn't help but laugh along with her. "Jemma, you naughty, naughty girl," he murmured, scolding her with a series of _tsks._ "Did you indulge in the champagne again?"

"No!" she exclaimed defensively, watching as Fitz dabbed a spot of red on her shoulder. Her eyes followed his movement as he drew a curve that swooped across her chest just across her cleavage. "Maybe…"

Fitz gave her a knowing look and she sighed. "Okay, I did, but I only had one glass and the bottle was already open!"

She had barely gotten the last word out of her mouth before she gasped. A glint of lust of jubilation (probably a combination of both, she thought to herself) glinted in Fitz's eyes as he ended the curve at the crook of her neck. "Is that a sensitive spot?" he asked, grinning at her.

"Y-yes," she managed to choke out before taking a deep breath and exhaling it softly.

His incredulity for the edible paint was replaced by a growing curiosity, and he eagerly grabbed the container of green to color Jemma's stomach.

That's when the uncontrollable giggling started. And once it started, it wouldn't stop. "Really? You're ticklish _there_?" Fitz questioned. "On the top of your hands?"

"No, it's not that this time." A smile surfaced under yellow and blue cheeks as she glanced at her reflection in the bedroom mirror. "I look like a children's painting."

Fitz chuckled at Jemma's appearance. She was a mess of colors, as he had decided to blend the shapes together on her pale skin in his excitement, and that combined with her effortless beauty made her a masterpiece in his eyes. "A very _sexy_ children's painting," he corrected, pausing his painting to nibble at a small patch of skin beneath her neck. "Ooh, this tastes like strawberries!"

"Really?" Jemma exclaimed in surprise. "Okay, it's my turn now!"

Within seconds, Fitz's mouth was covered in blue. "Oh, this is going to be a fun little experiment," Jemma laughed. "Will you taste like blueberries?"

Fitz's voice took on a deep, gravelly tone as he placed one hand on her hip while the other cupped her cheek. "I guess we'll just have to find out."

His lips crashed onto hers and she couldn't control the groan that made its way out of her mouth. She managed to tease his lips with her tongue before pulling away abruptly. "Shirt. Off. Now," she ordered, reaching for the yellow paint.

By morning, their bodies (along with the sheets, the bedroom floor, and the shower walls) were covered with a multitude of colors. And that was the last time Fitz ever doubted Jemma's sex advice again.

* * *

 _I think this one was my favorite one to write so far! It's so nice to write fluffy FitzSimmons for a change and not angsty FitzSimmons stuff. Thanks for the prompt!_


	4. My (Fake) Boyfriend, pt 1

_Prompt from superirishbreakfasttea: "It's my highschool reunion and I need a hot date so I can rub it in the faces of the people who hated me"_

* * *

 **~FitzSimmons Roommate AU~**

"Jemma, can you come here and help me tie this?" Fitz called out from his room.

"Coming!"

She emerged from the other side of the hall wearing a nice yellow dress and brand new earrings shaped like daisies that she had bought especially for tonight's event. "Still don't know how to put on your tie?" she asked, smirking from the entrance of his bedroom.

"I may have engineering fingers, but for whatever reason ties just don't like me," Fitz protested, staring hopelessly into the mirror.

"Well, that's just unfortunate," Jemma laughed. She took the black and gold-striped tie from his hands and proceeded to tie it like she used to for her younger cousin many years ago. "And look, we match!"

Smiling, she gestured to her dress, and Fitz couldn't help but freeze at the coincidence. "Wait, is that a good thing? Do you want me to change it?"

"No no, it's fine!" Jemma said quickly. "It's a really good thing this time. Couples usually like to match when they go to parties."

She couldn't blame him for looking so confused. Fitz knew next to nothing when it came to dressing himself. "But we're not together…"

His eyebrows furrowed when he saw Jemma look away sheepishly. "Or are we?" she squeaked.

"Jemma, what aren't you telling me?"

"This isn't just a party, Fitz…it's my high school reunion."

"Okay…" Fitz fidgeted with his tie as he stared at his dolled-up roommate. "And what does that have to do with me?"

"I may have told my old friends that I had a boyfriend and that his name was Leo Fitz," she blurted.

"What?!"

"I'm sorry, I panicked! I really wanted to impress them with a hot date and your name was the first one that came to my mind and the words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them!"

They both blushed when she finished talking. "Really? You think I'm attractive?" Fitz asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"Well, your body shape is symmetrical and you appear to have a low body fat percentage, so biologically speaking you are," Jemma reasoned as her blush deepened.

Sighing, Fitz readjusted his tie and looked at his appearance in the mirror, grimacing as his eyes fell on his lanky arms and pasty skin. _Biologically attractive. Good enough for me._ It's not that he necessarily minded being her (fake) date to a party…this had just completely caught him off-guard and he wasn't a huge fan of surprises.

"I'm sorry I lied," Jemma apologized. "I just didn't think you'd go it if I told you the truth."

"You know I'd do anything for you, Jemma. And you know I don't like lying." He didn't like being mad at Jemma either and it only took seeing the guilt stewing so clearly on her face for him to forgive her. "But I'll still go with you."

"Thanks so much!"

She went to hug him, but he stopped her before she could get the chance. "On one condition: we're using the car ride to make up our story."

Jemma smiled, holding out her hand for him to shake. "Done."

* * *

"Seriously, mate? She tricked you into going as her fake date? And you still agreed to go with her?"

Fitz hummed in response as he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. They were already running ten minutes late and just as they were about to leave, Jemma chose to check her room one last time to see if she had forgotten anything. He'd never seen her so nervous since she had to present her dissertation for her second Ph.D.

He could just picture Hunter rolling his eyes as he groaned into the receiver. "That's just cruel and unusual punishment, if you ask me."

Fitz shook his head. Of course Hunter wouldn't understand– he wouldn't know a best friend if it had hit him in the face. It wasn't easy to keep friends if you forged those friendships with the intent of swindling money from them and then gamble it all away for profit. The only reason Fitz even talked to Hunter in the first place was because he lived next door and he constantly showed up at his front door to ask for beer and swap stories. "She sounded desperate and she wants to look good in front of her friends. I had no choice!"

His friend made a whipping sound. " Of course you had a choice, you lovesick sap. She's just using you as arm candy, you know. Nothing is going to change after that. Just ask my demonic hell-beast of an ex."

"You've told me a million times." For god's sake, could he ever get through one conversation without mentioning his ex? "She left you after you lost your job and she caused you to become an immoral, raging alcoholic."

"Exactly."

"You don't even know her, Hunter. She'd never do something like that."

"For your sake, I'll take your word for it, mate. But if she's anything like Bobbi, you're in for a world of pain."

Fitz leaned his head against the seat as he heard a clicking sound on the other end, signaling that Hunter had hung up on him. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

"That's them over there." Jemma tugged on Fitz's sleeve as they nursed their drinks in the corner of the banquet hall, gesturing to a tall blonde and a striking brunette attached to a man with a chiseled jaw and a three o'clock shadow. "Skye and Barbara. Skye and Grant have been married for three years and Barbara is still single, I think. I'm going to go say hi and I'll wave to you when I think you should come over."

"Are you sure? Wouldn't it be better if I just went with you?"

She shrugged. "I'm sort of banking on the element of surprise here. Don't ask. Just let me take care of it."

And with that, she was gone. Missing the heat of her presence already, he shivered and took a long sip of bourbon as he watched the three ladies (plus one clearly uninterested man) talk. What did she expect him to do, stay in the corner like a fire extinguisher until she needed him?

Absentmindedly running a hand through his thick curls, Fitz sighed. If that's what his purpose at this party really was, then he might as well act the part.

He moved a couple of steps forward until he could make out their conversation, which wasn't too incredibly hard in the first place, given that the two other girls seemed tipsy enough to shout their way through the whole conversation. "Did you hear that Raina got a nose job?" he heard Skye say with a laugh. "It looks horrendous!"

"And I heard that she had a reaction to the anesthesia and got a permanent rash that spread across her entire body," Barbara added.

"Oh no! That's awful!" Jemma exclaimed, putting a hand to her mouth.

Skye shook her head. "Honestly, she had it coming. She was always a deceitful little bitch in high school, always putting on way too much makeup and parading her boyfriends around like a slut."

 _What the hell? Did these girls ever leave high school?_ He found himself gaping at the immaturity of it all. How did Jemma ever befriend these people in the first place?

"Agreed. So how have you been, Simmsy? Did all of those extra curriculars and A pluses ever get you a decent boyfriend?" Barbara questioned, her eyes twinkling with something that definitely wasn't friendly. Even Fitz could see from afar that her whole demeanor was fake, but Jemma was evidently oblivious to it.

"It did, in fact!" Jemma chirped. "He's over there, actually."

Fitz grimaced and did his best to look inconspicuous as their intention shifted to him. "That's hilarious! You put him in the corner like a toddler who's in time-out!" Skye chortled. "Are you embarrassed of him or something?"

"No, of course not! He's just shy, that's all!"

"You know, I bet that's not even her actual boyfriend," Barbara whispered to Skye. "She probably just brought the poor guy along to mask her social awkwardness."

Jemma's back may have been facing him, but he could still tell she was upset. She was hunched over slightly and Fitz could just imagine the redness of her cheeks as unshed tears welled up in her eyes, as what often happened when she was on verge of crying. Although they were throwing shade at him too, there was no way he'd let them get away with talking to Jemma like this.

He was about to go over when he saw Hunter, of all people, approach Barbara and hand her a martini. "Just the way you like it, Bob," he drawled, placing a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

 _That's Bobbi? Oh hell no._

When all of this was said and done, he and Hunter were going to have words, that's for sure.

* * *

"Those weren't your friends, were they, Jem?" Fitz asked Jemma softly, handing her a tissue from his pants pocket.

"Not exactly." She sniffed. "I mean, they would act nice to me and ask me for homework help, but they mostly just used me to get ahead in their classes. They always promised that they would invite me to parties, but it never happened. And they still call me that horrendous nickname, for god's sake!"

They walked over to a courtyard just across the street from the club and sat down on one of the benches. "I just…" Her voice wobbled. "I thought if I showed them how much I had changed, they would respect me for once. But obviously they don't. Skye runs her own software company and Bobbi is a really successful bounty hunter and what am I? A lousy lab tech that has spent countless hours applying for grants to do my own research but keeps getting rejected every time."

"I don't know, I think you made quite an impression on them near the end," Fitz commented, which caused her to giggle softly.

"That was all you, Fitz. I just stood there like a floundering idiot."

"But what I said was true! You're a brilliant scientist that's going to cure cancer someday and you're going to become famous for it." He bumped her shoulder playfully. "I've seen your work, Simmons. The fact that you haven't been sponsored yet says nothing about how amazing you are."

"And you said that I was famous for my work _already_ and that I had a million-dollar mansion on the Amalfi Coast! That's _lying_ ," she emphasized. However, she was unable to keep herself from throwing her head back and laughing. "But it was a brilliant lie nonetheless."

Fitz laughed along with her and was about to get up when he felt a pair of lips brush his cheek lightly. "Thank you," Jemma whispered. "For doing that for me."

He suddenly found that he couldn't tear himself away from her beautiful brown eyes. "Honestly, it was my pleasure. Those girls needed to be put into their place."

Jemma let out one last giggle before grabbing his hand and pulling him off the bench. "Now, let's go someplace where we'll actually have some fun, just the two of us!"

Suddenly not able to get Hunter's words out of his head, Fitz took a risk that he hoped would pay off. "You mean… like a date?"

Jemma stopped in her tracks and her face immediately brightened. "Sure, why not?" Fitz's doubts were diffused by the devious grin she threw his way. "You are my pretend boyfriend, after all."

It only took a second of them staring at each other for them to decide what to do next. "To the planetarium?" Fitz asked, entwining his fingers with hers.

"To the planetarium!"

* * *

 _I'm not entirely happy about the "reunion scene" at the club and I may rewrite it someday if it nags me long enough, but that's the first FS AU I've ever written so it's a start! I've got one more finished drabble that I'll post soon and I just got four more requests on Tumblr so I'll write and post those when I can :). Thanks for reading and please review! I appreciate the feedback, even when it's constructive criticism._


	5. Some Much-Needed Alone Time

_Prompt from Anon: "Jemma and Fitz try to hide their relationship from the rest of the team."_

* * *

 **~AU in which FitzSimmons get together right after 3x10~**

"Jemma, where are you taking me-"

"Ssh, be quiet! We don't want to wake anyone up!"

Jemma peeked around the corner of the hallway before motioning for a bleary-eyed Fitz to follow her. Although it was one in the morning and everyone on the base was usually asleep by midnight, she didn't want to risk being seen by anyone. A long work day had left them both worn out and ready for bed, but she had managed to drag him out of his bedroom without an explanation and convinced him to come with her.

She stopped abruptly at a metal door on the right, making Fitz almost stumble into her. Confused, he took one look at the door before crossing his arms in front of him. "Seriously, Simmons? You dragged me out of bed for a broom closet?"

"Just get in!" she hissed, grabbing the handle and pulling him in with her.

"I can't see anything!" Fitz protested, flailing his arms around until Simmons found a light switch. "Oh…okay. That's better." He squinted in the seemingly-blinding light and his eyes fell on an equally-disheveled Jemma clothed in white, cotton pajamas. "Now will you please tell me why we're in here?"

She stuck out her lower lip as she padded towards him, running her fingers along his blue t-shirt once she was close enough to touch him. "I couldn't sleep," she replied simply.

Fitz's face contorted into one of concern. "Are you okay? Are you still having nightmares?"

"It's been days since I had one. I'm fine." Jemma brushed off his questions with a shake of her head as she started to stroke the stubble on his cheek.

"Then…what's going on?"

Seeing that she was close enough for her breath to ghost across his lips, he gulped audibly. "We're finally getting our alone time."

She pecked him on the lips, lingering long enough to make him shudder. "You know I'm always up for that," Fitz chuckled softly. "But is now really a good time?"

"When _is_ a good time, Fitz?You know as well as I do that they've had those bugs installed in our rooms ever since Malick kidnapped us! I checked all over this room yesterday for a bug and I didn't find anything, so we're in the clear."

"And you know as well as I do that I could've disabled those bugs without Coulson knowing," Fitz retorted. He leaned back against a metal shelf and ran a hand across his forehead. "Why are you going through so much trouble to hide our relationship from everyone?"

Jemma sighed and removed her fingers from his shoulders to trace her healing wrist, as she often did nowadays. The dark purple welts, now fading into small blue dots on her skin, were a constant reminder of what she had almost lost the day that Malick had forced Fitz to go through the portal. "It's protocol that SHIELD agents aren't allowed to date while on duty. I don't want to get into trouble!"

"Bobbi and Hunter are constantly shagging each other and Coulson's perfectly fine with it!" Fitz whisper-yelled as his frustration caused him to briefly throw his hands up in the air. "Heck, I bet they're doing it right now as we speak!"

"You don't know that for sure!" Jemma shot back, her voice becoming shrill at the end as she acknowledged that her argument didn't hold water.

"If it's not that, then what is it?"

"We're a liability now, Fitz! Our relationship makes us _vulnerable._ What if we get separated again or what if one of us gets hurt or kidnapped? We're SHIELD agents and we can't let our feelings for each other put everyone else at risk!"

Her words came out in a rush and her voice cracked as she finished. "Your feelings for me almost got you killed this year, and my feelings for you almost brought back an ancient Hydra Inhuman back onto this planet. I…I just don't want to lose anyone else because of this."

"Jemma…" She suddenly found herself snuggled into Fitz's chest as his hands soothingly caressed her back. "Not telling people about us isn't going to change how I feel about you. Keeping us a secret isn't going to change how far I will go to keep you safe and alive," he murmured into her ear. "Sure, things will change a bit, but maybe those changes will be good ones. Maybe we'll have that cottage in Perthshire sooner than we thought."

He knew that last bit was wishful thinking at its best, and Jemma knew that as well, but his coaxing seemed to make her relax as he felt her relax into him. "But Bobbi and Daisy will give us those knowing looks all the time and Hunter will never stop with those innuendo-laden comments if they knew," she mumbled into his shirt.

A suppressed laugh vibrated against Jemma, causing her to smile and hug him tighter. "If that's the only thing we'll have to worry about, I'm okay with that." He stepped back slightly so he could cup her cheek and gaze into her eyes. "Everything's going to be okay. I promise."

She sighed in defeat and nodded slightly. "Okay. We'll tell Coulson tomorrow then."

"Good."

Fitz moved to push himself off of the shelf, but instead his hand ricocheted straight into a broomstick, sending a whole bundle of brooms and mops clattering to the ground. They both gasped, simultaneously bringing their hands to their mouths, and then giggled in relief when they didn't hear any footsteps coming down the hallway.

A short-lived adrenaline rush found its way through Fitz's bloodstream, and suddenly the thought of sneaking around didn't seem like a horrible idea after all. "Since we're not telling anyone until tomorrow…" The corner of his lip quirked into a lopsided smile. "How about you tell me what you had planned for this 'alone time' of yours?"

The only reply he got from her was a beaming grin before her lips crashed into his and he lost himself in her arms. And they were extra careful to avoid all of the cleaning supplies in their way, maneuvering themselves around them slowly and deliberately, fixated in a dance only the two of them would ever remember.

* * *

 _So those are the five drabbles I currently have completed! Got one in the works now and three more to write after that, so stay tuned :)_


	6. Scars On (and Underneath) the Surface

_Prompt from Anon (based on a "send me numbers with sentences" meme on Tumblr): "Why the hell are you bleeding?!" and/or "I need you to leave."_

 _First of all, I was going to wait until later to post this, but I'm super bored tonight so I'm going to go ahead and post it anyway. Second of all, I'm a super indecisive person so instead of choosing between the two prompts, I decided to combine them._

 _I wasn't sure if I could get away with a T rating on this drabble, so I'm going to put an M rating on this one because it gets a bit dark. Also trigger warning for self-abuse and cutting, so don't read it if those things make you uncomfortable._

* * *

"Jemma, are you okay?" Fitz banged on the bathroom door and then paused as he waited for a reply. "You've been in there for a while now and I can't finish the ICER modifications on my own."

Jemma hurriedly stashed her belongings in a makeup bag before hiding it in a cabinet below the sink. She glanced at herself in the mirror, searching for any other telltale signs of a previous crying spell, and she sighed in relief when she didn't find any. Besides the twenty minutes spent in the bathroom, all evidence had been erased that she had been doing something other than what was expected from one taking an impromptu bathroom break.

Running her fingers one last time through her hair, she opened the door and managed to smile a bit too enthusiastically at her partner. "Everything's fine. Girl problems. You wouldn't understand."

Jemma used to be a terrible liar, but she had gotten better at it as she spent more time with the highly-trained agents on Coulson's team. And it wasn't like she had just lied to him completely, she rationalized. Technically, it was two lies and one truth: he wouldn't understand. He wouldn't possibly be able to comprehend what she was feeling at this very moment in time, so it was best to keep him out of the whole mess that currently was her mental health until he had no reason to worry about her anymore. Fitz already had enough on his plate as it stood, with inhuman Ward on the run on Earth and him knowing that Coulson was the one who allowed the inhuman takeover to happen in the first place, so why make his burden any worse?

Besides, she was a big girl; she could deal with it. If she could survive six and a half months on a barren, deserted planet, then she could surely keep her own thoughts and feelings in check. Right?

She chewed on her lip as she brushed past him, her eyesight set firmly on the task at hand. "So I was thinking we should add a more concentrated amount of dendrotoxin to the original formula so that the intended target will stay incapacitated for a bit longer. That way, in the case that they pose an immediate, dangerous threat such as an Inhuman like Lash, it would give us more time to warn people and evacuate-"

"Jemma."

The sudden lowering of Fitz's voice made her freeze in place. "What's that on your sleeve?"

With her back still facing him, she grabbed at the sleeve of her long-sleeved white blouse and all the air seemed to evaporate from her lungs. _Oh no._ One of her previous cuts must have somehow opened up again without her knowing. "It's-it's nothing," she stuttered. "I must've cut myself on something on the lab bench."

"Turn around," Fitz ordered, his gaze still transfixed on her bloody sleeve.

Reluctantly, Jemma did as she was told and he examined her injury carefully. "Your sleeve isn't ripped," he stated. "The cut is underneath your shirt. And-" His eyes widened at the amount of red spreading across her wrist and he gasped. "You're bleeding really heavily, so the cut must be deep."

His fingers moved to unbutton the cuff of the sleeve when a cold hand stopped him. "No! Don't!"

Startled, Fitz met her panicked eyes, causing his voice to become even more frantic than it had been before. "Jemma, I don't understand. Why the hell are you bleeding?!"

"I can't tell you!" she yelped, pulling her hand out of his grasp and hissing as the cut she had just bandaged in the bathroom rubbed against the band-aid.

"Why not?" Fitz retorted. "Did someone hurt you? Because if they did, I'll give them hell."

"No, no one hurt me, Fitz." Silence overtook her as she averted her eyes to the ground.

Jemma saw the color drain from his face as the realization hit him. "You…you did this to yourself?" he choked out.

"I…" She looked around frantically, calculating her escape. "I can't do this with you right now."

He stood there, stupefied, as she sprinted past him, effortlessly navigating the numerous twists and turns of the hallways that ultimately led to her room. What she didn't count on, however, was Fitz being right on her heels the whole time.

* * *

"Jemma!" he called out, screeching to a halt next to her as she reached for the door knob. "I can't just ignore this. Please, tell me what's going on. I want to be there for you."

His pleas sent an ache spiraling through her chest, but her fingers tightened on the door knob nonetheless. "I need you to leave, Fitz. Just please let me be."

"Like hell I won't!" Normally when she wasn't feeling well, he'd let her go, but the thought of Jemma hurting herself sent chills down his spine and a fear he hadn't felt since his time on Maveth held a steady grip on his heart. "Not this time."

"Fine! You want to see what I've been doing so badly?" she retorted, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, and a lone drop managed to slip out as she yanked her sleeve down violently, revealing a path of horizontal cuts forming a ladder down her arm. "Now you know."

A small whimper escaped Fitz's throat as he cradled her arm in his hands. "Why?" His voice cracked as his own eyes started to water. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"It's…" Jemma paused, tracing the cut closest to her elbow with her fingertip. "It's the only way I can make the pain go away," she finally admitted.

"-By replacing the emotional pain with a physical one." Fitz nodded in understanding as he tried to regain his composure.

"Yes. I deserve this, Fitz. I killed so many people by letting Lash loose on those Hydra agents. I left Will to die because I convinced him to come with me to find you. I tried to prevent Skye- now Daisy- from changing into the person she was meant to become."

She gulped and finally released the tears that she had been holding back. "And I let you struggle through your hypoxia alone when you needed me most."

Fitz took a step forward and placed his hands on her shoulders. " _Lash_ killed all of those people, not you. Will made that decision to come with you. You didn't force either of them to do the things they did. It was _their_ decision, not yours. And I've forgiven you for all of those things that happened in the past."

He stopped briefly to wipe a droplet off the bottom of her chin. "You need to learn to forgive yourself, Jemma." Sniffling, he dragged his thumb up to cup her cheek. "I can't watch you suffer like this."

"I can't help it, Fitz!" she exclaimed. "I know it's wrong and I know it's not good for me. My mum told me all the time that the worst thing you could do was hurt yourself. But once I started…I couldn't stop. It's like I can feel all of the rage, the sadness, the guilt spill out of me when I do it. Nothing else I've done helps!"

"You could've came to me. I have more experience with this than you think."

"Really?" she stammered. "How so?"

"I had a cousin who cut himself all the time when I was little. He needed a sounding board, so I listened. He felt a lot of the same things you did, but his therapist taught him a trick to make him stop cutting."

Fitz continued to hold Jemma's arm as he fumbled around in his pants pocket for a marker. "Watch." Paying close attention to the freshness of her cuts, he traced a marker around the one she had been eyeing near her elbow. The black ink stopped and started at the boundaries of her cut, avoiding the exposed and inflamed areas until it formed a name: _Fitz_.

"He told me that seeing these names on his arm reminded him of the people who still cared about him, his support system, and the memories that came along with the names were good enough to make him stop cutting," he explained. "Pascal knew that he didn't want his loved ones seeing him do this himself and that gave him incentive to heal, to move past the things that were eating him up inside."

Jemma wordlessly traced the now-dry ink on her arm. How had she not thought of something like this before? "You've told me about everyone in your family, Fitz. Why didn't you ever mention Pascal?"

Fitz shrugged. "He's gone through a lot with my one aunt and uncle and I wanted to respect his privacy."

He proceeded to write different names over her remaining cuts. _Daisy. Bobbi. Coulson. May. Mack. Hunter. Mum. Dad._ And finally, _Will_. "He wouldn't want you to do this either, Jemma," he murmured, running his fingers over the band-aid smudged with black ink. "I know he cared about you. You were probably the best thing to ever happen to him on Maveth."

Jemma couldn't help but stare at Fitz in awe as he continued. "I'm not going to take the razor blades or the knives or whatever you use out of your hands because I know it won't help. But I'm going to be here for you whether you like it or not. So there."

Fitz watched her face crumple and she was suddenly pressing herself up against him, sobbing in the crook as she wrapped her arms around him tightly. "You're amazing," she croaked against his skin. "Thank you."

He reciprocated the motion, for fear that she might fall apart if he didn't. When he finally let her go, he took in a deep breath and ran his fingers through his blonde curls. "Well, I'm going to tell Coulson that you weren't feeling well and went to bed early, if that's okay with you. We'll just finish our work on the ICERs tomorrow."

"Thank you," Jemma repeated, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. With a small smile and puffy eyes, she entered her room and closed the door behind her.

 _Fitz_. She gazed tenderly at the name, silently thanking the cosmos for bringing Fitz back to her. "I'll get better, Fitz, for you and everyone else. I promise."

* * *

 _I know this is a super sensitive topic for some people, so PLEASE let me know if you have any issues with the content of my story and I'll be sure to fix it immediately. And yes, this is one of my longer drabbles because I don't put length limits on my stories._


	7. My (Fake) Boyfriend, pt 2

_Prompt from Anon (sentence meme): "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you" and/or "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have kissed you."_

 _Once again, I decided to combine both of the prompts AND I also used the same AU from Chapter 4, so it picks up almost right after where I left that drabble off. Happy reading!_

* * *

Two hours and a couple of glasses of champagne later, Jemma was relaxing in a ratty pink lawn chair while Fitz fiddled with the lens on the telescope. The midnight sky loomed above them, black speckled with tiny bursts of lights glittering above the glass ceiling of the planetarium's observatory. Wisps of grey occasionally blocked Fitz's view through the telescope, making him grumble as he continued to try and focus the lenses, positioning and re-positioning the instrument so that they could have a clear, uninterrupted view of the constellations as they waited.

"I'm telling you, it says right here that the meteor shower is going to start in approximately ten minutes!" Jemma tapped her astronomy pamphlet excitedly with her index finger.

"I know, you've been telling me about it ever since we left the park," Fitz replied, and Jemma swore she detected a slight eye-roll in his tone. "You know, if you had told me earlier, we could've watched it from the park bench together."

"It's so peaceful up here though! No bothersome, unnecessary light pollution, no drunk people clamoring outside the club…" Her voice trailed off into the distance and she smiled. "It's just the two of us up here, looking at the stars."

"Yeah, you're even lucky I could get us up here in the first place," Fitz chuckled. "Phil doesn't let just anyone use his telescope, especially after-hours when the planetarium is closed. He gave me full access to his lab and the observatory ever since I started helping him with his research."

"How is that going, by the way?" Jemma asked, pouring herself yet another flute of champagne. She knew she was probably over her limit by now, but after the hell of a night she just had…she deserved it. Or, that's what she had cemented in her head before buying the bottle in the first place.

"Pretty good, actually." Fitz peeked into the telescope again and growled in frustration when he saw that yet another cloud had obstructed his view. "Professor Coulson said he might've had a breakthrough. Like he might be able to prove that gravitational waves actually exist."

"Seriously?" She took a sip from her glass before setting it down beside the chair and standing up to join him. "That's huge! It could prove what Einstein was theorizing before about them being transports of gravitational radiation!"

Fitz paused his tinkering to raise his eyebrow at Jemma. "You've been reading my aerospace magazines again, haven't you?"

"Well, biology isn't always what it's cracked up to be!" Jemma huffed. "Is it so wrong to be curious about other scientific phenomena?"

"Of course it isn't!" Fitz exclaimed. "I was just surprised, that's all. We've been living together for three years now and you never told me you were interested in astronomy."

 _Not exactly, until you and your brilliant aerospace engineering mind waltzed into my life._

Jemma shrugged her shoulders. "I've always had a fascination for things that lie outside our reach. I had scoliosis surgery when I was a child and while I was healing, my dad used to wheel me out of the hospital at night to look at the stars. He would point out all the constellations for me and he even gave me a book all about them when I was released from the hospital."

Fitz stared at the wonderment that filled her eyes as she gazed at the sky above, and he couldn't help but marvel at her yellow dress flowing gracefully around her figure and the stunning gold earrings bringing out the dirty-blonde highlights in her wavy brown hair, which she had taken out of her bobby pins before arriving at the planetarium. "That must've been really nice," he mumbled, looking away before she noticed his stare.

Knowing that his father had left him and his mum when he was only nine years old, she rested a sympathetic hand on his. "It was. I still have the book in my book shelf back at home."

Jemma attempted to wipe away the downcast look that had appeared on Fitz's face by sliding her fingers though the spaces of his free hand. "But what you're doing is so much cooler!" she chirped. "You're building a _satellite_ , for crying out loud. And you're being funded by _NASA_ to complete your design! While I'm…"

Her figure appeared to deflate, as if someone had just punched her in the stomach, as her excitement suddenly dissipated. "While my adviser doesn't even seem to remember that I exist."

A burst of warmth flooded through her chest as Fitz's hand squeezed hers gently. "Are you sure you can't switch advisers?" he asked. "You don't deserve to be helped by someone that doesn't respect you."

Jemma sighed. "The other professor that specializes in cancer biology is on sabbatical until we graduate and I thought John Garrett would be the only person that understood my work. He's one of the most famous oncologists in the U.S."

"Yeah, a famous scientist who's a misogynist pig that thinks every woman he takes under his wing is eventually going to cry and quit on him," Fitz muttered. She looked at him, surprised, and he shrugged his shoulders. "Or at least that's what I've heard from some of the other students."

"Leopold Fitz, I never thought I'd see the day where you actually listened to other people's gossip," Jemma teased, nudging his shoulder.

"Only when it concerns you," he replied, prompting a faint blush to rise in her cheeks.

She let go of his hand and crossed her arms in front of her as she leaned against the metal railing that prevented them from lifting the telescope off of its pedestal. "I know he doesn't have a personal issue with me, but still…I feel like my work isn't good enough for him. Or anyone, for that matter."

"Hey…" Fitz's voice trailed off as he saw a lone tear run down her cheek, and he used his thumb to wipe it away. "It's okay. Someone will recognize your work someday. It takes time for geniuses to be discovered."

A soft laugh escaped her through the tears. "You really think I'm a genius?"

"Of course. This is the second Ph.D. you're going for, isn't it?"

She nodded. "I just wish you could see yourself the way I see you," he said as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Oh yeah?" Her blush deepened and she was suddenly too self-conscious to even look at his expression of utter adoration. "How do you see me?"

"You're…a star." His eyes fell once again upon her dress. "A tiny but important contributor to the composition of the universe."

Jemma followed his eyes and her face lit up in understanding. "Ohh, I see where you're going with this," she laughed. "Astronomy pun, I got it. Because I look like a star."

He grinned and shook his head. "Hey, we're in a planetarium, I couldn't help myself." Acting on the gravitational attraction pulling him towards her, he stepped closer until he could feel the tips of their toes touching. "But I'm not taking the metaphor back."

Jemma shifted nervously in place and was about to respond when Fitz closed the gap between them. Startled, she inhaled through her nose sharply before relaxing into the kiss, instinctively moving her hand to stroke the stubble on his face.

When they broke apart, Fitz's eyes widened and he froze. "I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have kissed you," he stammered. "This is barely even a date and I got caught in the moment and-"

She cut off his excuses with a kiss of her own. "I think if I promote you from 'pretend boyfriend' to 'actual boyfriend,' this definitely counts as a date."

This caused Fitz to grin widely and he nuzzled his nose against hers in his excitement. "Well, let's make it one, then. As soon as I can find the right spot to position the telescope…"

He barely even got the sentence out of his mouth when a bright light flashed over their heads. "Fitz!" Jemma gasped. "It's starting! Let's go!"

She grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the staircase. "Wait, what happened to watching the shower from here?" Fitz protested.

"What's more romantic, sitting here on ratty lawn chairs or making out underneath a meteor shower?"

 _Oh…so that's where this is going._

"You've got a good point," he agreed quickly, deciding to forgive her for her hypocrisy for the time being as they rushed down the stairs together.

* * *

 _I'm still in college and know nothing about graduate school yet (even though I will start applying to some in about six months or so), so apologies if I got any of those details wrong!_


	8. When Matchmaking Goes Awry

_Prompt from Anon (sentence meme): "Of all the people I could've gotten stuck in an elevator with and it just had to be you."_

* * *

 **~Academy AU~**

Skye twirled a french fry in her ketchup before stuffing it into her mouth as she stared at her laptop screen. Normally she wouldn't waste her eating time with work, but one of the younger cadets had paid her a lot of cash to hack into Professor Reynolds' account to access answers for an upcoming test and she sure wasn't going to waste such a large gratuity on her own laziness. Of course cheating was wrong, she knew, but money was money and she was particularly skilled in leaving no tracks behind. Morality never was a huge concern to her when it came to business matters.

Despite her intense concentration on the task at hand, she couldn't resist peeking over her screen at a blond, curly-haired boy sitting at a nearby table. His back faced her as he hunched over what appeared to be a tuna sandwich, but Skye was way more interested in the brief but frequent glances he kept shooting towards one of her friends across the cafeteria than whatever he was eating. Especially when said friend seemed to imitate those glances back at him _every single day_ during lunch.

"Mack!" Skye hissed, elbowing her friend's shoulder, causing him to almost drop his drink. "Look at this!"

Mack, now in his second year of training for the Operations division, looked to where she was gesturing. Not seeing anything particularly interesting nor concerning, he frowned. "What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"That kid in the plaid shirt. Look at what he's doing!"

"You mean Turbo?" Skye gave him a puzzled look. "Oh, that's my friend Fitz," Mack clarified. "He's an engineer."

"And my friend Jemma is a biochemist. They would be perfect for each other!"

He had met Jemma before. Long, brown hair, unquestionably intelligent, and a distinct accent that was hard to forget. He didn't really know her that well though, only having met her at Skye's impromptu dorm parties once or twice in the past. "Okay…and what does that have to do with Fitz eating his sandwich?"

"So Jemma is sitting right over…there, at your two o'clock. Watch the two of them and…wait for it…"

Skye cheered in triumph as Fitz's head twisted slightly to the right, positioned glaringly in Jemma's direction before ducking down just as quickly. "Bam!"

Mack raised his eyebrows at her. "You're kidding, right? That proves nothing."

"It's _something_ though!" She shut her laptop down and slid it to the empty seat next to her. Kaminsky's offer could wait; now it was her turn to prove a point. "Because now watch Jemma."

Curious and still baffled by Skye's assumption, he learned forward and narrowed his eyes, studying Jemma's mannerisms closely. She was talking to a girl with blonde hair, chattering and laughing amicably. But once the conversation ended, he saw what Skye was referring to. Jemma's eyes flickered across the room, and he thought nothing of it until her face fell, taking on an unreadable expression. She looked sort of…wistful, as if she was being ignored somehow.

"Okay, I can sort of see it," he admitted. "Why are you so obsessed with them though?"

It only took one look at Skye's determined face to tell that she was scheming. "Oh no," Mack groaned. "Please don't play matchmaker again. You've failed every time you've tried to set my friends up with someone."

"Where is this coming from?" Skye leaned back in her chair and bit into another french fry. "I can tell when people are made for each other."

"Bobbi and Hunter can't even get through a conversation without lunging at each others throats and they break up every other day!"

"But technically they're still together!" she challenged him. "I bet they're hooking up in the bathroom this very moment!"

Mack shook his head at her not-so-subtle wager. The last time he had engaged in one with her, he had ended up being her personal butler for a week and he did not want to go through that humiliation again. "And that Raina chick you set me up with on Valentine's Day last year," he argued, "she was bat-ass crazy!"

"How was I supposed to know that she would try to set your dorm on fire after you broke up with her?" Skye protested.

"The point is, I think you need to sit this one out, Tremors," Mack emphasized, using the nickname he had given her a while back after he had noticed that she couldn't sit still in one place and always had to be shaking a body part whenever she was excited. Watching her currently squirm in her seat and practically salivating at the mouth was no exception. "I've heard Fitz talk about Agent Simmons. They don't like each other. He always complains about her trying to one-up him all the time." He shrugged. "It's hard to turn hate into love in just one day, just saying."

Skye sighed and held her hands up in defeat. "Alright, alright, I'll let this one happen naturally."

"Good."

He clapped her on the shoulder as he stood up to throw out his trash, failing to see the devious glint that entered her eyes as he left. "Turns out I'm not very fond of nature," she uttered under her breath, grinning like a Cheshire cat at the two scientists who, she was convinced, were destined to be together.

* * *

"Seriously, Skye, why do you keep bringing him up?" Jemma complained as she and Skye waited for the elevator. "Leo Fitz is a nuisance, a thorn in my side, if you will, and I'd rather not talk about him."

"But he's cute!" Skye gushed as she adjusted her backpack. "And I've heard he's going for his second Ph.D. too."

Jemma scoffed. "Not every rumor you hear is true, Skye." She returned her attention to her phone, but something Skye had said struck a chord within her. "Wait a minute…" Jemma whipped her head around and stared at her. "You like him, don't you?"

"What?!" Skye spluttered. "How in the world could you think that?"

"You talk about him all the time and-"

"No, the only reason I do that is because-"

The _ding!_ of the elevator signaled its arrival, interrupting their conversation. They made faces at each other as they entered and waited for the doors to close in front of them.

"Hold the elevator!" someone called in the distance, and none other than Jemma's rival came barreling through the sliding doors, almost crashing into them. He steadied himself, re-positioning the pile of books in his hands before he realized who was standing stoically beside him. "Agent Simmons," he muttered, not even daring to make eye contact with her.

"Agent Fitz."

Skye, who had been pushed to the back by the collision, observed as they stood silently side by side, and she hadn't predicted things being this awkward when she had brainstormed this plan in the first place. An aspiring agent can pick up a thing or two about a person's daily routine when spying on them for days at a time.

"Don't mind me," she said as she slid along the stainless steel walls towards the key pad, internally sighing with relief when they didn't acknowledge her existence. She moved her index finger to press a number but instead pressed the red STOP button.

Everyone jumped when the elevator suddenly screeched to a halt and Skye did her best to act casual. "Oh no, the elevator is stuck!"

"Great," Fitz groaned. "I'm going to be even later now than I was before."

"We're _all_ going to be late now," Jemma pointed out. "Stupid bloody elevator…"

"Do you really have to be such a know-it-all sometimes?"

"Me?" Jemma exclaimed, turning to face him. "You're the one who's raising his hand all the time in class! You beat me to the answers every time!"

"Well, it's not my fault you're slow to think of them!"

Jemma gasped as a brilliant red flooded her cheeks. "That's because I actually want my answers to be correct. I'm sure you just throw yours out there and hope that at least one is right!"

"Oh yeah? Then how come I'm never wrong?"

"Because it's just dumb luck! Also, your answer for the atomic weight of iodine was off by three tenths."

"Seriously?" He clutched his books tightly to his chest and strode to stand right in front of her. "You're keeping track of my _answers_ now? Of all the people I could've gotten stuck in an elevator with, it just _had_ to be you."

Skye sank to the ground as they argued, biting her lip to keep the smile off of her face. This was _totally_ worth missing class for.

* * *

"Oh boy." Fitz's face paled, causing Jemma to hold back her retort. "I think I'm going to faint."

"What's wrong?" Jemma asked. They had been going at it for ten straight minutes now; what could have brought him to admit possible defeat?

"I'm claustrophobic," he rasped, almost dropping his books as he strayed to the elevator wall. "I can't…tolerate…small spaces-"

"I know what claustrophobic means! Skye, take the books out of his hands and call for help while I calm him down."

Despite the situation, Skye snickered quietly. "Oh, so _now_ I exist." She had expected to keep them in the elevator for longer, about a half hour or so, but of course plans could never be foolproof. The sneaky half smile lingered on her face as she logged onto her laptop and attempted to hack through the barriers of SHIELD's control system, only for it to fade away when the system rejected her password. And of course no other hacks she could use were coming to her mind at the moment.

Shit. They really were stuck now.

Reluctantly, Skye pulled out her cell phone and called for maintenance as Jemma knelt beside Fitz. "You need to breathe, Fitz," she instructed, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Slowly and deeply. And focus on a positive image. It'll distract you from your fear."

Nodding his head violently, he closed his eyes and gulped for air, and Jemma sighed in relief as his breathing gradually slowed down. "Wow," he commented, his arms shaking as he propped himself up. "I can't believe that worked. Why didn't I think of that before?"

"Probably because it's hard to think rationally when you're having a panic attack," Jemma replied sympathetically. "What did you think about?" Fitz blinked at her. "For the positive image, I mean."

He smiled. "My mum. I miss her a lot while I'm here."

"I understand. I miss my parents, too."

Jemma stood up and offered him a hand, which he accepted gratefully. "Well, if you find yourself having another panic attack anytime soon, Leo-"

"Fitz," he interrupted. "Just call me Fitz."

"Fitz. As I was saying, I have tea and biscuits in my room if you ever want the company."

"I-" He looked down at the ground shyly. "I would really like that, actually." Finding the sudden tranquility between them a bit awkward, he shuffled his feet on the floor. "To be honest, I thought you hated me."

Jemma's mouth dropped open. "Only because I thought you hated _me_!"

"Why would you think that?"

"Because you always gave me these annoyed glares and never talked to me!"

They continued to bicker while Skye watched, somehow withstanding the urge to intervene, as she usually did with these sorts of things. By the time maintenance got them out, Fitz and Simmons were chatting like they had been friends the entire time, and they had surely forgotten that Skye had been there the whole time. Although Skye liked to play matchmaker, she was perfectly fine with fading in the background this time around.

Skye smiled as they walked to class in front of her, immersed in a conversation that she couldn't quite comprehend. Maybe, just maybe, she'd let this one happen naturally.

 _FitzSimmons. That's what I'll call them from now on._

And once the name circulated around the Academy, it stuck.

* * *

 _Sooo I have no knowledge of hacking or elevator systems or how a SHIELD Academy is supposed to function, but I tried to make it sound realistic! Hope you enjoyed it!_


	9. Stalemate

_Prompt from katiebug0410 (sentence meme): "I'm dying."_

 _I feel really bad that it took me 2-3 weeks to get to this one, but when someone sends me a request I never forget to write it, no matter how long it takes me to finish it!_

* * *

 **~Set sometime during the first half of season 2~**

"Turbo! C'mon man, that was such a low blow!"

"Well, that's what happens w-when you stand in the t-trajectory of my gun!"

"Give the kid a break, Mack," Hunter drawls, and Jemma can hear a slew of gun shots sounding from the living room as she finishes up her work in the lab. "He's just getting into the swing of things."

She cringes at the sound of the fake automatic weapons going off on the TV, but she reminds herself that it's all fake, just a testosterone outlet for the guys after a hard day of work. Growing up with two younger cousins, she has never been a fan of video games, but she's glad that the guys have finally earned a bit of downtime, especially Fitz. He needs friends to break the ice that has formed between the two of them. Brick by brick, the wall of hurt and betrayal that still stands so obviously in front of them is slowly crumbling down, but their relationship still isn't the same. It's still too reserved; they're too hesitant to hash things out with each other and that bugs Jemma more than anything.

"Well, he's catching on pretty fast," Mack chuckles, causing Jemma to smile. Of course Fitz would still learn new skills and concepts quickly, even after his brain injury. Considering Fitz's brilliance that she has gotten to witness countless times over the years, this didn't surprise her in the least.

"We'll see about that." Fitz brushes it off modestly, and the chatter settles down for a while. Realizing how distracted her eavesdropping has made her, Jemma shakes her head violently in an attempt to re-focus and resumes sorting out the blood samples before putting them away.

It is only when she hears a loud yelp from the other room that she almost drops the samples as her hand reaches for the refrigerator handle. "Now look at what you've done, Mack! I'm d-dying!"

Mack's response is barely audible among the unexpected wave of nausea that takes over Jemma's body. She grasps onto the door handle, suddenly weak at the knees, and shoves the container onto the top shelf before the suction pulls the door shut. It's a reasonable exclamation, given that death was a common theme in video games, but she never expected to act this strongly to something so trivial.

She realizes that it's not the subject of death that startles her as much as _who_ is being killed off in the video game. Unable to rest her forehead on her gloved hands possibly covered in hazardous biological substances, she hangs her head, her chin almost touching her chest. Her heart leaps into her throat as an image of Fitz giving her the oxygen at the bottom of the med pod races from the recesses of her mind into her consciousness. She keeps telling him not to do it, _"_ No I'm not leaving you here, that's ridiculous!", but suddenly he's shoving the mask into her shaking hands and then she awakes to see his comatose form lying in a hospital bed.

 _"You're more than that, too." That's what I should've told him. I should've told him that a long time ago. Why had I never thought of that before?_

It takes her a few seconds for her to snap out of her momentary flashback and she shakes off the memory, letting it slide like a water off a duck's back. Nothing could be done to change what Fitz had done for her. He had saved her life and all she was able to do was bring a shell of himself up to the ocean's surface. How could she ever forgive herself for that?

Fifteen minutes later, after she cleans up the lab, Jemma is in the kitchen making tea. She always uses tea to calm her nerves during a stressful situation and today seems as good as any other day to make it, especially after she noticed how high-strung she has become after Fitz's exclamation. Out of habit, she heats up enough water for two cups of tea and sets out a packet of tea for each mug: vanilla chamomile for her and earl grey for Fitz. Sure, he may be busy having guy time with Mack and Hunter, but never has there been a time where he has refused a mug of tea from her and hopefully their fighting won't break that consistency.

After adding a splash of milk and two teaspoons of sugar, just the way Fitz likes it, she pads towards the living room, stopping briefly at the entrance to steady the SHIELD Academy mugs, which are steaming and filled to the brim with tea. It appears that the game has finished and Mack and Hunter are joking around with each other, exchanging playful punches and finger flicks to the ears ( _How childish_ , she laughs internally) while Fitz leans back on the couch and watches the whole spectacle with a fascinated amusement.

Unsure if she should disturb their banter, Jemma knocks on the open door gently. "Mind if I come in?"

"Yeah, no problem, we just finished." Mack walks behind the couch to give Fitz a clap on the shoulder. "This guy is a beast with a pistol, by the way. Never missed a single target!"

Jemma bristles at the mere thought of Fitz purposefully using a gun (of course he wouldn't in real life; he always insisted on using ICERs, only accepting a gun filled with bullets when it was forced into his hands), but she manages a tight-lipped smile. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

"Did you two reserve the TV next or something?" Hunter's eyes twinkle at her as he takes a swig of his beer.

Jemma gives him a look. "No. But…" She glances at Fitz hesitantly. "If you don't mind sharing it, Fitz…I would be happy to join you."

 _Seriously Jemma? That was way too formal. You can do better than that._

"Um…" A mix of surprise and confusion clouds Fitz's face. "Yeah, sure, that would be nice."

He scoots over and awkwardly pats a cushion next to him while Mack ushers Hunter out of the room. "So…you sounded like you were having a good time," Jemma says, trying to sound cheery as she places the mugs down on the coffee table.

"Yeah, it was…it was fun." He blushes and looks down at his hands fidgeting in his lap. "I haven't really, er…'interacted' with anyone like that i-in a while."

"Ever since-?"

"Yeah," he finishes for her, not even daring to bring the subject up again.

"I'm glad."

They sit there for a minute in silence, making Jemma grow even more restless. "Thanks for the tea," Fitz finally says, moving to pick up the still-steaming mug. "I should've, er- said that earlier."

Well, at least that was something. "You're very welcome," she replies, wrapping her palms tightly around her own mug.

The tea doesn't even have a chance to pass his lips before Jemma's words come tumbling out of her mouth in a rush. "Why do you like playing such a violent video game?"

His eyebrows crinkle a bit in confusion and he finishes his sip before responding. "It helps me with my dexterity." He wiggles the fingers of his bad hand subconsciously. "And it helps me connect…"

"-with the other guys."

"Yeah, that."

Fitz casts a frown at Jemma's troubled expression and sits his mug back down on the table. "What's wrong?" he asks, tilting his head slightly to the side.

"I-um…" _Oh god, this is embarrassing._ "I just heard you say you were dying and I know it's just a stupid video game and I don't know why, but it made me think of-"

She squeezes her eyes shut and attempts to hide her face behind her mug, but it doesn't stop Fitz from understanding her thoughts. "I'm okay, Jemma. Really. I'm safe here, hanging with the other agents, working in the lab with you…" Her eyes widen as Fitz places a hand on her knee. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

Jemma takes in a shallow breath and for some reason she can't tear her gaze off of his hand. Of course he is (or _was_ ) affectionate with her when she was upset, but this is the first time since she returned from Hydra that he's treating her like a friend, not like an enemy. "Of course. How silly of me to think of that."

"It's not silly. It's…to be expected."

And that's all he says as he sinks into the couch and turns on the most recent episode of Dr. Who. Reassured by his gesture, Jemma allows herself to scoot closer to him and is relieved when he doesn't react to her proximity. As hours pass by, she even manages to lean his head on his shoulder, lolling off to sleep as he mindlessly strokes her hair, eventually letting his fingers slide down the strands to splay across her shoulder blade.

There are still words that need to be said and misunderstandings that yearn to be cleared, but for now this is good. It's progress. And that's all Fitz and Jemma need to understand as they accept their first stalemate and enjoy their first moment of peace in months with each other.

* * *

 _I know it takes me forever to get to them sometimes, but I'm always open for FitzSimmons requests if anyone ever wants me to write one! :)_


	10. The Mourning of the Innocents

_Please excuse me if the content of this drabble does not live up to your expectations, as I became very emotional while writing it. Over the past week or so, I have been hearing news story after story about not only the terrorist attacks in Brussels, but also terrorist attacks in other places such as Tunisia and Pakistan. As a result, I've been overwhelmed with sadness for the victims, fear for my own safety in Europe, and unrelenting anger towards the terrorists who even dare to take away lives of innocent people for their cruel intentions. And I decided to work out these feelings through the power of fanfiction. I'm not going to lie, this story is sad and the subject is sensitive to a lot of people, so I'm putting that warning out there now. Rated M for a graphic description of violence._

 _Prompt from Eliza (AO3): Simmons gets critically injured while they are cut off from the team, and Fitz must find a way to keep her stable until help arrives._

 _This is dedicated to the people who have lost their lives in the ISIS terrorist attacks. May your souls rest in peace._

* * *

This wasn't happening. This _couldn't_ be happening. Of all the places and all the times to be under such duress...why here? In Perthshire, merely just twenty yards away from where their cottage was located?

It shouldn't have even been a possibility in the first place. SHIELD was fortified enough by now to give them the adequate materials they needed to secure their safety. Alarms were placed sparingly within the walls of the small, wooden cottage, and the thermal sensors were able to detect movement from intruders at least 50 yards away. An invisible, electric security fence lined the edges of the back and front yards, stopping at the outskirts of a dense forest, two fields, and a dusty road (it barely even qualified as a road at all) leading to their new home. And there were numerous places in the various rooms where they kept ICERs and guns and various other escape tools in the case that their location had been compromised.

But nothing could've prepared them for this.

Actually, that wasn't true, Fitz fumed to himself. There was no excuse for why this had even been _allowed_ to happen. They could've extended the security fence and thermal scanner parameters, they could've been loaned some sort of guard dog to detect the presence of dangerous objects, they could've done _something_ to prevent the imminent destruction of their new life in front of their very eyes. Hive was after them, Coulson was aware; that was why the whole safe house, "Plan B," was created in the first place. They weren't disavowed from SHIELD like Hunter and Bobbi had been, thankfully, but they weren't allowed back on the base or the plane before all possible threats were eliminated.

They had thought it was a solid plan; Coulson had run the logistics past May first, and then Daisy used her research and hacking skills to search for the most isolated place she could find while maintaining the structural, aesthetic stipulations Fitz and Simmons had required of her. Given that Hive was a force to be reckoned with, not able to be effectively derailed within a short period of time, they had planned for the long term, which meant revealing their future plans for Perthshire to the entire team. With Fitz and Simmons unable to head the Science Division anymore on the base, Coulson pulled a lot of strings to get Helen Cho, a scientist working under the advisement of Bruce Banner himself, to serve as a temporary substitute. Dr. Cho was a busy person, constantly running experiments and giving important presentations at prestigious biochemistry and neurology conferences all around the globe, but she agreed to work on the base if she could continue to do her own research on her off-hours.

A month had passed by Fitz and Simmons in a blur. Although there wasn't a whole lot to do in the cottage after the repairs had been made and they had moved in their belongings, they always found little ways to pass the time like playing cards and chess and various other board games from their Academy days. Communication with the team was scarce due to the spotty Wifi signal and cell service, and messages could only be sent in cases of emergency through encrypted lines that enemies couldn't hack, so any kind of contact with the team was a risk. Coulson was the only one with access to the encrypted lines and he was the one that received Fitz's weekly reports. With this knowledge, he occasionally updated the team on Fitz and Simmons's condition, but otherwise little was known about their time at Perthshire.

Until now.

It had been a normal spring day in Scotland when the incident occurred. Fitz was sitting on a rocking chair on the front porch, nonchalantly reading a book on quantum mechanics while Simmons was finally going to work on turning one of the weedy fields into a lovely vegetable garden. He couldn't keep track of how many times she had made excuses about the arduous task in the past, always claiming that she needed to finish reading her latest Jane Austen novel or drive 20 minutes to the nearest grocery store to buy food for the week, but he was glad that she was taking advantage of the rare sunny day to plant those daisies, chrysanthemums, and tomatoes she had been gushing about non-stop ever since they moved to Perthshire.

Ten minutes into his book, he felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong. The air was too still, the sun was beating down too intensely on the creaky porch steps to be considered normal, or maybe it was the raccoon living underneath the house that was getting on his nerves again. He shrugged it off and returned to his reading. Of course he was just being paranoid about things- how could he not after everything that had happened over the past couple of years? Was that really enough to stray him, preventing him from enjoying a beautiful day with his girlfriend? He chuckled to himself, convinced that he really just needed to stop worrying about everything.

That is, until he heard the scream.

It was the loud _boom_ of the explosion he had heard first, but it was the hair-raising screech that accompanied it that would fill his head for years to come. Fitz didn't hesitate to throw the book to the ground as he sprinted in the direction of the field where Jemma had been toiling away. Or, what was left of the field, that is.

The cloud of smoke led him to his destination and he was absolutely horrified by the destruction he saw. All of the weeds were gone, replaced by plant skeletons and clumps of dirt swirling in the air, and Jemma's gardening tools were nowhere to be found, most likely blown away by the blast. It was what he _couldn't_ see through the thick smog that was making his heart leap out of his chest. _Where was she? She wasn't...she couldn't be..._

And then, out of the corner of his eye he spotted Jemma, her delicate form sprawled out in a disturbingly unnatural position on the far corner of the field.

Her name caught in his throat as he tried to call out to her, and the short amount of time it took to reach her somehow felt like an eternity. He fell to the ground beside her and with shaking hands he brushed her ponytail aside to feel for a pulse, receiving a sluggish beat that was music to his ears. The flooding sense of relief screeched to a halt as he saw the mess of blood that had been her leg- that was hopefully _still_ her leg. The shrapnel must have buried itself deep in her flesh, cutting up any living cell that it pierced. Miraculously, the rest of her body appeared to be relatively untouched with the exceptions of small, deep cuts on her face, the drops of blood trickling from a wound on the side of her head (that thankfully didn't seem to be too serious), and any internal injuries hidden underneath her clothing.

"Oh god," Fitz whispered, unable to stop the tears welling in his eyes as he practically tore off his blue cardigan, the one that Jemma had always been so fond of, and went through the painstaking effort to wrap it around her leg to slow down the bleeding. "Oh god, oh god, oh god, no, no, no..'

He kept muttering those words to himself until Jemma let out a weak gasp, paralyzed by the shock of the unimaginable pain she must have been experiencing. "Fitz." She reached out for him with a trembling hand and Fitz grasped it tightly, immediately stopping his instinctive mental medical analysis.

"Jemma, stay with me," he pleaded, taking the time to press the _CODE BLUE_ emergency button on his watch while looking into her bugging, unfocused eyes. "Please, just stay with me."

"I don't...know if I...can." Her breathing gradually became labored and shallow and Fitz clenched his teeth together, almost biting his tongue in his panic. She had lost too much blood already and she was barely hanging on, probably about to go into shock at any moment.

They were in the middle of nowhere with no one within miles to help them all because of a bomb. A fucking Hydra _bomb,_ camouflaged in the array of weeds, that was meant to send a message to SHIELD, as he would find out later from Coulson. A detailed analysis would later reveal that the bomb hadn't necessarily been meant to kill, as it had been set to go off when a person approached it from a certain distance. He couldn't understand how the bomb wasn't detected and why Hydra had placed it there in the first place. Hydra could've just used a chemical toxin to paralyze them, or they could've just stormed the cottage and taken them hostage, leaving them with both their lives intact and leverage against Coulson.

But to plant a bomb in the most unexpected place possible to purposefully put innocent people in harm's way just to send a political message? That was just...inhumane. Cruel. A number of adjectives that would never make it out of Fitz's mouth but would darken his mood for days.

"Clotting...agent."

Fitz blinked. "The what?"

"First aid...living room. Clotting...agent."

"The clotting agent? The one Cal gave Coulson to save Trip?" Fitz shook her hand gently, urging her to stay conscious. The only response she could muster was the slightest of nods and a soft groan. "Okay...but wait. No, I'm not leaving you here, that's ridiculous!" he said indignantly.

But he knew better than that. He had to take the risk; otherwise, she would surely bleed out before the team would be able to reach them. "I'll..." He sniffed loudly, wiping away his tears with a grungy fist. "I'll be right back. I know you're a fighter, Jemma. Please wait for me."

And then he took off, not even daring to breathe or think as he sprinted back. It didn't take long for him to find the first aid kit; he had memorized its exact location anyway for scenarios such as this. He scrambled through the mess of bandages and cotton swabs and sterilized needles and syringes until he found the clotting agent, nestled at the very bottom of the case underneath a cloth bandage. His mind whizzed through the calculations on how much agent he would need to plug up the numerous punctures in her leg and he hurriedly (while somehow maintaining a meticulous accuracy) filled a syringe with the clotting agent before running back to her location, where she hadn't moved a bit.

Jemma's eyes were glazed over as he carefully removed his soaked cardigan and inserted the needle into her wound. "As long as she's not going into shock, she should be fine," he recited to himself, recalling the instructions and the warnings listed on the back of the packet. His eyes widened as he noticed the sweat pooling on her brow, one of the many indicators of the shock that was just about to kick in. With a strong push of his thumb, the liquid rushed into her system and she screamed loudly, her face contorting into an expression Fitz would never want to see again.

However, within seconds her muscles relaxed, her leg only shaking slightly as the medicine worked to stop the bleeding. Temporarily relieved of the pain, her grimace was replaced with the ghost of a smile as she drifted into unconsciousness.

Surprisingly, Jemma's lack of response did not faze Fitz; she was breathing, the bleeding had stopped, and he just had to keep her stable until an extraction team arrived to take care of her. He dropped his head in relief, kissing her cheek and resting his forehead on her chest where her heart was beating. This time, having no reason to hold them in, he let his tears fall. She was going to be okay.

* * *

When she woke up, her vision was blurry. Two fuzzy, tall objects stood in front of her, occasionally shifting balance while another pasty, smaller one sat by her side. It was only when her vision cleared that she realized the objects were people.

"Fitz, what is going on-" she started before the excruciating pain kicked in. She let out a small wail and instinctively pressed the morphine button, which she assumed was going to run through one of the many tubes plastered to her body any minute now. Aware that Fitz had been holding her hand for quite some time now, she squeezed it hard, causing him to yelp in surprise.

"Dr. Cho and I have some good news and bad news, Jemma," Coulson started, moving to the other side of her bed.

 _Dr. Cho?_ Under different circumstances, Jemma would've been much more excited to meet her, as she was one of her many female role models. "The good news is that we were able to save your leg. You're going to need a lot of time to recover, but it was a miracle that we didn't have to amputate it," she spoke solemnly.

"You can thank Fitz for that," Jemma said quickly, glancing over at his hunched, worried posture. "He saved me. He found the clotting agent and used it to stop the bleeding."

"Actually, it was- er, it was Jemma who remembered we had it in the first place." Fitz looked down at his lap modestly.

"It doesn't matter whose idea it was. It matters that you're alive," Coulson responded more sharply than he had intended. "The bad news is..." He looked at the two scientists sadly. "Since your location has been compromised, I can't let you return to the safehouse. An extraction team has already packed up your belongings and returned them to your respective rooms."

Fitz and Jemma turned to each other, distraught. They knew this was coming, but they hadn't expected the news to hit them this hard. "We...we can't go back? Ever?" Jemma managed to choke out.

"As long as you remain affiliated with SHIELD on your records, your compromised location will always remain a target," Dr. Cho clarified. "I'm sorry it has come down to this."

"Dr. Cho will continue to head the Science Division until Jemma is able to move around on her own again," Coulson continued as the news sank in further. "She needs to rest and Fitz, I can set up an appointment with a specialized trauma counselor if needed."

"I-I think I'm good," Fitz stuttered, unable to meet Coulson and Dr. Cho's gazes.

"Okay. We will give you a few moments alone with each other before Dr. Cho tends to Jemma's wounds once more."

Coulson turned to leave but then surprised Jemma by putting a hand on her shoulder. "I am truly sorry about this. I know how much Perthshire meant to both of you." And with that, he led Dr. Cho out of the treatment room.

"Fitz..." He stared wordlessly back at her. "Did Coulson mean...that we will never be able to go back to Perthshire, not just to the cottage?"

"I don't know." His jaw tightened and he ran a hand through his curls, which he had let grow back over the past month. "His answer was sort of vague." At the moment, all Fitz could do was think of the worst possible scenario, but he had to stay positive for her, for both of them. "I guess we'll find out eventually. Coulson has a habit of keeping secrets from us, but I don't think Perthshire is one of them."

"But Fitz, this isn't just about the house and Perthshire! This is about-"

 _Us. Our future._ "I know," he said, leaning his forehead against hers. "I know." She didn't need to say it out loud for him to know what she meant.

And there they sat, crying and comforting each other as the prospect of the future they dreamed of together seemed to drift farther away from their grasp. It was still a possibility, of course, but it was becoming less and less probable as time passed on.

They never found out who planted the bomb in the field that day, whether it was Hive acting alone or Malick trying to scare Coulson off or if was even a Hydra affiliate acting on their own. But whoever had even dared to destroy the future of innocents just trying to live a peaceful life together...their hearts must have been filled with an evil no one could possibly comprehend.

* * *

 _Again, so sorry for how morbid this got, but there will be happier drabbles to come, I promise!_


	11. Endlessly Inquisitive

_Prompt from Anon: FitzSimmons + too many questions_

 ****Note: This is an AU, but I didn't know what to call it since it's not JUST a high school AU or a college AU...maybe more like a "Normal/Regular Life AU"? Lol. So yeah, not labeling this one because of that.**

* * *

Fitz knew something strange was in the air the minute he sat down for lunch. Maybe it was the fact that it was sunny for once and they were able to eat outside, or maybe it was because he and Jemma both got perfect scores on their chemistry midterms. Maybe she got an acceptance letter from yet _another_ Ivy League college?

There had to be a reason as to why she was practically bouncing up and down in her seat with a maniacal grin on her face as the wind blew her brown curls behind her.

"Jemma…are you okay?" Fitz asked as he plopped down beside her on the grass.

"I know something you don't know," she sang, and for a minute she resembled a super-villain about to reveal her evil plan.

What the hell was she talking about? He wondered how many eyebrow furrows it would take for him to form permanent wrinkles on his forehead because she never ceased to confuse him. "Please, that's impossible," he scoffed. "I know everything."

He had meant it as a joke, but she glared at him anyway. "Not this time!" She took a bite of her sandwich, making a show of chewing as slowly as possible, causing Fitz to roll his eyes. "You have a crush on someone!"

He froze, his cracker dangling just inches away from his gaping mouth, and he knew he couldn't blame the wind this time for the color rushing into his cheeks. "I-I have no idea what you're talking about," he stumbled, stuffing the cracker into his mouth with a few more following suit.

Jemma snickered. "Oh please, it's obvious! The love-struck face with the dopey smile and the glazed-over eyes, …even your pupils resemble little hearts! I see that look all the time now! You're in loooove."

Despite the teasing, the dramatic tilt of her head and her fluttering eyelashes only made the gnawing in the pit of his stomach worse. "And a little birdie may have told me about it," she admitted sheepishly.

 _Oh no_. "Damnit, Skye," Fitz cursed under his breath. That girl could not keep a secret to save her life! He may had been forced to tell Skye about his crush on his best friend when she caught him staring at Jemma once or twice, but did she really have to tell _Jemma_ , of all people? How humiliating. "Look, I can explain, it's really nothing-"

"Is it Raina?"

His jaw slackened. "Pardon?"

"Raina, the girl who sits in front of us in calculus? I see you eyeing her pretty flower dresses all the time."

Fitz snorted while holding back a sigh of relief. "Only because her back is this close to my face!" he protested, holding his fingers up to scale. "I have no choice!"

Jemma shrugged and uncrossed her legs. "Fair enough. Is it Callie?"

"No."

"Is it Jiaying?"

"God no."

"Is it…" Jemma gasped and moved her lips close to his ear. " _Skye_?" she asked in a hushed whisper.

He gulped at her proximity, but he managed to give her a look that clearly said _Are you kidding me?_ "Of course not," she answered herself upon seeing his grimace. "Well then who is it?"

"I'm not telling!" Fitz exclaimed.

"Why not?"

"Because…it's complicated."

"Oh. Okay."

Jemma smoothed out her brown skirt, a stark contrast to the sunlight beaming down on them, and settled back down in the grass. As he let out a small sigh, the knot in his stomach relaxed and finally, Fitz was able to eat his lunch and enjoy a moment of peace.

"You know I'm going to ask you a million questions until I figure out the answer, right?"

She was an odd bird, alright, but an endlessly inquisitive one at that. And when she was curious about something, she was incredibly persistent.

Fitz chuckled at her petulant indignation. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

* * *

"So how did the date go?" was the first thing out of Jemma's mouth as Fitz entered her dorm room.

"Don't ask," he grumbled, dropping his backpack on the floor. The heavy _thump_ seemed to echo his frustration as the sound bounced off of the walls. "There wasn't a date. She stood me up."

"Oh, Fitz!" Jemma scooted over to the side of her bed (the part that wasn't covered with crumpled papers and heavy textbooks) and squeezed his hand comfortingly. "I'm so sorry! Raquel seemed like a nice girl."

"Yeah, well apparently Bobbi isn't the best matchmaker in the world, either," Fitz sighed. "Last time I ever take dating advice from her. She can't even date Hunter for more than a few weeks without breaking up with him!"

 _And to think I did this whole thing because Bobbi said it would make Jemma jealous. How pathetic._

Jemma raised an eyebrow. "Fitz, be nice," she reprimanded him.

"Sorry," he huffed, crossing his arms in front of him. "It was just a waste of time, that's all."

"Maybe studying nuclear astrophysics with me will help you make up for some of that wasted time!" she chirped, and the look she gave Fitz made his heart swell. "C'mon, I need someone to quiz me."

Fitz sighed and made himself cozy, trying to crumple as few of Jemma's copious notes as possible. "Alright, where do you want to start?"

"Did she ever tell you why she stood you up?"

 _What part of 'don't ask' did she not understand?_

He glared at her. "No."

"Do you want me to talk to her?"

"NO."

"I know this nice girl in my lab that you could go out with-"

" _Jemma_."

She squeezed her lips together at his warning tone. "Sorry."

* * *

It was the middle of the night when Jemma heard the loud knocking on her door and she was floored to see Fitz standing in the rain with flowers cradled in the crook of his arm and a dripping fist aimed straight at the wooden door. "Fitz?" She stared at him, baffled. "What are you doing here? I thought you were out with-"

"I know, I was." He pushed past her to hang his rain coat on the coat rack. "Hold these."

Jemma cringed at the wet, surrounding plastic stuck to her forearms as the flowers were shoved into her empty hands. "I didn't ask you to come in, you know," she said smartly, though secretly she was happy to see him. Ever since his position had gotten transferred to Los Angeles a year ago, a mere twenty minutes from where she currently lives, they had been reconnecting quite a bit. Sure, she felt a little strange whenever he talked about Karen, his assistant-turned-girlfriend, and she would feel this intense anger that she couldn't quite comprehend radiating in her chest, flooding her entire being for just a couple of seconds, but any time spent with him was like a breath of fresh air– even if it _was_ one-bloody-thirty in the morning.

"And this can't wait, so excuse me for not minding my manners," he snapped.

Jemma set the bouquet of roses down on a nearby chair. "Fitz, are you okay? You're acting really strange-"

"Karen broke off the engagement."

The words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush. Jemma's eyes widened in surprise, but she bit back a smile at the same time. Did the news surprise her? Yes. Did it make her sad though? Absolutely not. "What? Why?"

"It, uh…" Suddenly humbled, Fitz's eyes stayed glued to the floor. "It _may_ have had something to do with something I _might_ have told her while drunk at Mack's bachelor party."

That piqued her interest. "What did you say?" she yawned as she rubbed the sand out of her eyes. Although she was indeed curious about this new development, her inquisitiveness didn't dispute how late it was for her.

"That, er…I was in love with someone else. Have been for a long time now."

"Hmm…" Jemma leaned against the kitchen table and tapped her chin with her finger. "Does she have brown hair?"

Fitz shrugged noncommittally, but he was as transparent as the spotless, clean windows of her apartment. "I think so."

"Blue or brown eyes?"

"Definitely brown, but sometimes they change color." The corner of his mouth perked up. "Mostly in the sunlight."

"Does she happen to have two PhDs and an IQ of 150?"

By now, his smile was so big, Jemma was surprised it didn't fill the entire room. "Possibly."

"Is she in the room with us right now?"

Fitz's chest, noticeably firm underneath his tight, blue button-up shirt, shook as he laughed and took a step closer to her. "I'll plead the fifth with that one."

"This is a tough one, so let me think for a moment…"

Fitz bit back a groan of impatience. The sooner she spit it out, the sooner he could (literally) wipe the playful smirk off of her face. "Oooh! Is it me?"

"It really wasn't that hard of a guess, was it?"

Jemma suddenly found herself looking into deep pools of blue unexpectedly close to her face and all of that air seemed to evaporate from her lungs. "I…I think I knew all along," she mused, absentmindedly running a hand through his wet curls.

A thought popped into her mind and she gave Fitz a wicked grin. "I told you I'd figure it out."

"I never doubted you would."

"So what should we do now?"

Fitz chuckled and tenderly cupped her cheek. "You ask too many questions."

And once he kissed her, all her nagging, unnecessary questions about what exactly had happened between Fitz and Karen faded. With the pleasant tingle that came with the touch of his lips and the warmth of the passion that coursed through her veins…it was as if Karen had never existed.

* * *

 _I may not write new drabbles for a while since my main goal right now is to finish writing "You're Just Different Now, and There's Nothing Wrong With That," but I have a bunch of requests that I need to fulfill so there'll be more coming eventually!_


	12. How to Throw a Punch

_From theclaravoyant: "Fight me" and/or "join me." Requested from a fanfiction meme on tumblr._

 _ **"Fight Me":** I will write a drabble out my character fighting with/or against yours._  
 _ **"Join Me":** I'll write a drabble about my character giving your character an offer [be it a proposal for an alliance, asking them to join them in an activity (you can get dirty if you want), feel free to specify.]_

 _This was sent to me a while ago, but I always fulfill my promises! Combined both of them like I usually attempt to do when I get double requests. Enjoy! (rated T for sexual innuendo near the end)_

* * *

 **~Canon-compliant, sometime after 3x18~**

"So, May has been teaching you how to punch?"

Startled by the voice at the doorway, Jemma jolted out of her workout trance, but her eyes stayed fixated on the punching bag in front of her. "Just want to defend myself in case Hive attacks again."

Fitz sighed from his place against the door frame. "You know that's not going to be enough, right? If three slugs to the chest didn't deter him, I doubt a broken jaw or nose will, either."

"Well, since we haven't found a solution for the blasted parasites he uses to control Ward's body and other Inhumans, this may be my only way to escape," she bit back, gritting her teeth as she felt the rebound of the punches radiating through her sore knuckles.

She saw Fitz throw his hands up in defeat in the reflection of the mirror. "Okay, you have a point."

Jemma grunted in response, throwing another pathetic punch at the bag. She wasn't improving a lot, as she had never been the athletic type and that certainly wasn't to change with the sparse time pushed aside for sparring lessons in between missions, but if Daisy could vibrate an attacker to death and May could knock out a guy with a swift kick to the head, then she sure as hell could find _some_ way to contribute to the team besides locking herself up in the lab trying to find a cure for the effects of Hive's "sway."

"You could've told me," Fitz commented, strolling over to pick up a pair of gloves from the corner of the room. "May's been teaching me, too. Since we're low on field agents and Hive is building his 'army'…" The snap of velcro reverberated through the air as he fastened a glove to his wrist. "Coulson needs all the help he can get."

Wiping a hand over her damp brow, Jemma snorted. "I'm not going to fight you, Fitz."

"What, you're scared I'm going to beat you?" he snickered, tossing a chest plate her way. "Because I thought Jemma Simmons excelled at _everything_."

She rolled her eyes when Fitz wasn't looking. She should've seen this coming. By now, Fitz knew how to push all of her buttons, and her competitive one just happened to be sensitive to the slightest touch. "Is that a challenge?"

The corner of Fitz's mouth perked up. "It might be."

"Good. Because you're still the pasty kid with the red inhaler attached to his mouth whenever we had to run a mile in my mind."

"I grew out of that, thank you very much!" Fitz countered, dodging a punch to the face from Jemma and aiming for her stomach, which she caught with the palm of her hand. "And this is coming from the agent-" he ducked down as a leg swiped the curls on his head "-that couldn't even fall down on command!"

"Well you're the one who didn't come in at the heels of Doug!" She let out a startled squeak as Fitz caught her elbow from behind, realizing too late that his face was ridiculously close to her own. "You…messed me up."

The words faded in her mouth and she bit her lip as the scent of sweat and cologne intermingled around her. Her pause was telling, a wrinkle in her cloak of determination, and Fitz took advantage of her blunder. "Why Simmons, are you distracted?" Though the vibration of his _tsks_ danced wildly in her ear, fueling further the adrenaline rush running through her body, the pheromones and teasing did not wipe May's lessons from her mind. "A good fighter must always maintain-"

With a swift kick to the ankle and the thrust of her trapped elbow, Fitz fell to the ground. He groaned and wheezed, hand clutching his rib cage, as Jemma tumbled promptly on top of him. "You know…" She smiled slyly, licking her lips as she looked down at him. "I'm tired of fighting. I can think of…much more _pleasant_ things to do in this particular position."

She dragged a nail down Fitz's collarbone, relishing in his apparent shock as she allowed her nail to snag on his collarbone. "Can we, er…" He gulped audibly. "Could we go engage in those activities? Now?"

"Only if you admit that I kicked your ass."

Fitz grunted. "May taught you well, I'll admit that." He wiggled himself out of her grasp. "But this isn't over."

"We can spar together more often?" Jemma suggested.

Fitz chuckled, grabbing her hand, and they both stumbled as they helped each other up. "If all of them end like _that_ …" He grinned at her, gesturing to the floor. "I wouldn't be opposed to it."

From that point on, Jemma proceeded with her tendency of being on the top– literally and figuratively.

* * *

 _Okay, I officially love writing sassy FitzSimmons. And I was originally going to include cockblocking shipper!Daisy at the end, but the drabble didn't work out that way, unfortunately. And the fight scene was super short because I'm not very good at writing those in length :P_


	13. Drunken Confessions in a Broom Closet

_From chinese-bakery: "Tell me." Requested from a fanfic meme on tumblr._

 _ **"Tell Me"** : I'll write a drabble about my character confessing something to yours [be it a love confession, a secret, feel free to specify.]_

 _This request is a couple of months old and it may have gotten ahead of me so it may not be perfectly edited, but I always keep my promises! Enjoy._

* * *

It's no secret that hazing freshmen at universities was a common occurrence, a rite of passage, almost, into the hectic world that is "college." The SHIELD Academy was no exception. Just because young, incredibly skilled adolescents qualified for the demanding requisites that came with training to become a SHIELD did not mean the agents didn't like to cut loose now and then.

It was two weeks into the school year when Fitz and Simmons were first introduced to this tradition. The plan was simple: get the two British child geniuses, youngest in the class, incredibly drunk– hammered enough to be shoved into a closet for a rousing game of 7 Minutes in Heaven without much protest. They hadn't known each other long, Fitz and Simmons, but they were already starting to become a force to be reckoned with and their developing bond hadn't gone unnoticed by their observant, competitive classmates.

That is how Fitz and Simmons found themselves at a typical Boiler Room party one Saturday night with drinks constantly shoved in their faces without a reasonable explanation other than "All the newbies drink on the weekends! C'mon, it'll feel good, we promise!" And, too polite and intimidated to turn them down, they did as they were told, downing them one by one. Maybe, they thought– or, at least Jemma did– the faster the drinks disappeared, the sooner and less intimidated they would feel. Sure, her parents may have allowed her to have a drink or two of cheap wine with dinner every now and then, but this was nothing compared to those few small tastes of adulthood.

"Jemmaaaa," Fitz whined, and she jumped at the sudden pressure of his chin on her shoulder. "I'm tired. We should go back."

She took one look at her best friend, slumped over and almost half-sleep (not to mention the drool threatening to drip over the corner of his lip, gross), and rolled her eyes. The alcohol was only just starting to kick in for her, but Fitz was already way beyond his limits. The guys had bought her all the fruity "girly" drinks while they had him guzzling down the hard liquor (she couldn't help but silently brood at their apparent sexism towards drinking), and soon he was boasting to the others that "Scots could hold their drinks better than Americans can"…which just encouraged their older classmates further.

"You're such a party pooper," Jemma whined back, setting down her margarita. "Let's stay for a lil' bit. This song makes me want to _dance_."

Normally, she would be turned off by the nasally tone of Britney Spears's voice, but tonight the rhythm was pounding through her in a way it hadn't before. Jemma turned to shrug Fitz off her shoulder and reached for his hand, convinced that she would have to drag his limp form to the dance floor, but she was interrupted by a hand slamming on the table. "Milton!" she complained. "Fitz won't dance with meeee."

Milton shook his head. "C'mon Jem, give the guy a break," he said, glancing past her to wiggle his eyebrows at the other cadets. "He probably needs to just lie down somewhere."

"Your head…" Fitz leaned against the back of their booth and raised his hands about a foot apart from each other. "Is so _big_. And round. Like a cabbage, almost."

Jemma watched, amused, as Milton's face scrunched up into a snarl while Fitz snickered uncontrollably. "C'mon, look at him. He's making a complete fool of himself."

Groaning in frustration, Jemma stood abruptly, dragging Fitz up with her. " _Fine_. He does look a little green anyway."

"Like a cabbage!" Fitz practically shrieked.

"Yes, Fitz, like a cabbage." Jemma nodded, holding back her own smile. She turned back to Milton, trying not to stare so obviously at the faint shadow of stubble on his chin. "I'll take him back to our room."

"Really? While everyone is partying?" Milton patted her on the shoulder. "No way. I know somewhere a lot quieter you two could go."

Before Jemma could ask where exactly this place was, she and Fitz were shoved into a small, black space. "Aaaah!" she screamed, flailing around in the darkness. Thankfully, before the utter panic could take her over, she stumbled into a light switch, which revealed to her a dusty broom closet. "Oh thank god," she breathed, almost doubling over in relief. "Fitz, are you okay?"

"Er…my bottom is wet."

"What?"

She did a double-take before bursting into laughter at seeing Fitz stuffed haplessly into a yellow bucket. "Get me outta here!" Fitz complained.

That didn't stop Jemma from whipping out her disposable camera. "After I take a picture!"

" _Jemma!_ " Fitz exclaimed, grimacing as the flash hit his eyes. "Seriously."

"Alright, alright."

She threw him a bone and held out her hand, and they stumbled as he tumbled out of the bucket. Fitz didn't even bother to stand up, instead choosing to curl up in a ball on the dusty floor. "I want to sleeeeep," he moaned.

Jemma's flip phone buzzed before she could respond and she squinted at the small text on the tiny screen. _7 minutes in heaven! We're not letting you out unless we see a good kiss picture. Mouth to mouth. NO EXCEPTIONS. Have fun. ~Milton_

"Crap," she spat out loudly. "Of course. Why am I not surprised?"

She glanced down at Fitz on the floor and made the executive decision to sit down as well. With Fitz's current state, there was no way they were getting out of this closet anytime soon. "Fitz. Wake up." She shook his shoulder gently. "We have to do something we'll both regret."

"Jem?" he murmured, barely stirring at her words. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Um…" Jemma leaned against the wall and bit her lip. "Sure."

"I love monkeys. A _lot_."

"Oh really?"

"Yes!" He drew out his "s" much longer than was necessary. "I want a Capuchin as a lab assistant. Imagine what he could get done with his small size and cute little hands!"

Jemma gasped. "Are you trying to _replace_ me with a monkey?"

"No, of course not!" He rolled over onto his back, promptly splaying himself out all on the floor. "You're my best friend in the world. A monkey would just be there to fix things and keep me company. You…you're the only friend I've ever had."

She recoiled back slightly, taken aback. Was this just nonsense spurred by the copious amount of whiskey in his system, or was Fitz telling the truth? "I know it's only been…three weeks…but we have this connection," he continued. "It's…it's nice."

His dialogue became less clear as his words started to slur together "My dad lef' me when I was young 'nd the kids a' home thought tha' Iwas weird and yeh…you ge' the gis'."

Furrowing her eyebrows, Jemma positioned her elbows on her knees and rested her chin in her hands. "I…I think I do." Without thinking, she stroked a hand through his curls. "Don't worry, Fitz. You have me now. You'll always have me."

"Okay." And within seconds, Fitz was asleep.

They never did come out of the closet that night. And Milton was more than a little miffed when he stumbled upon FitzSimmons curled up together on the dusty floor, barely remembering what happened the night before. But the annoyance of the failed hazing wore off when Jemma accepted his dinner date offer later that day, and he was suddenly thankful that his plan had unfortunately fallen through.

* * *

 _I must say, imagining drunk!Fitz not being able to hold his liquor makes me laugh so much. Thanks for the prompt!_


	14. Young & How Jemma Got Her Job Back

_From inevitablyfitzsimmons: "Value me." Requested from a fanfic ask meme on tumblr._

 _ **"Value Me":** I'll write a drabble about my character telling yours how they feel about them._

 _(A/N: If you're not familiar with the show I based this AU drabble off of, watch some episodes on Netflix, it's super hilarious)_

* * *

 **~A snippet from a Young & Hungry AU I hope to write someday~ **

The past couple of days had been a complete and utter disaster. Not only did Jemma get fired from two jobs in a row– one because she accidentally burned down a restaurant across the ocean and then another because Fitz just couldn't _stand_ that she was working across the hall for another billionaire tech genius– but now he wasn't being honest with her. Why did Fitz say that she could go be the personal chef for Ian Quinn, a rich CEO who was in negotiations with him to buy his company, if in reality he didn't want her to go at all? It didn't make sense!

After Ian scolded them for their actions and promptly kicked them out of his penthouse, Jemma trailed Fitz closely as they both stormed into his own house. If they were to clear the air between them for good, this had to end now.

"Okay, Fitz." Jemma closed the door behind her and crossed her arms. "A deal's a deal. Time to talk."

"Okay, I'm upset!" her former boss exclaimed. "I think my drone's broken and now you know how I feel."

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Jemma snapped. " When I first got back, you said you had moved on for good and now all of a sudden you're spying on me because you think I'm sleeping with your neighbor? What is that all about?"

Fitz pursed his lips together, and for a split second Jemma was convinced he would give in to his guilt for getting Jemma involved in this whole mishap. "Do you really want to know what that's all about? Or, are you just going to jump on another plane when things get too difficult?"

Of _course_ that's what this was all about. She should've known better. No wonder he refused to respond to her texts after she left so suddenly for her apprenticeship in Switzerland. "Oh, so you _are_ mad."

"You pulled the rug out from under me, Jemma!" Fitz shouted, waving his arms angrily at her. " You left me like an idiot at Mack's engagement party! I offered to take you out on a date, somewhere nice, and you said you would think about it. I told you I loved you, I kissed you, and I know it meant something to you."

"It did," Jemma's voice wobbled.

"Then why would you leave me like that?!"

"Because…" She stepped closer to him. "Fitz, if I would have seen you, I wouldn't have been able to go."

Sighing, Jemma looked away, ashamed. How could he possibly understand her situation when she had hurt him so badly in the first place? "When I first left I kept wondering to myself, you know, how could I leave when we were just getting started?"

"And what did you come up with?" Fitz glared pointedly at her. " Because I couldn't come up with anything."

Jemma bit her lip and shrugged. "Being with you would've been too easy."

"You…you think this is _easy_?" Fitz spluttered.

"Fitz…" Since the tension didn't appear to be dissipating as she had hoped, Jemma decided to take the conversation to the couch. "You would dive through a hole in the universe to make me happy. But I need to make that plunge myself, does that make any sense?"

"Yeah, I know what plunges are," Fitz scoffed.

"I went to Switzerland because I want to be the first Julia Child and if you did everything for me, then I would lose my own drive to make that dream come true! Do you understand that?"

Fitz turned his head away to hide his pout. "Yeah, I know what dreams are!"

His sarcasm cut through Jemma like a sharp blade slicing through a lean piece of meat, but at least he now understood where she was coming from. "Fitz…"

"Look, Jemma…" He moved to join her on the couch. "When you left, it was horrible. I was a mess. So I threw myself into work- and…" Fitz paused, suddenly deep in thought. "I actually got myself to a place where I almost made five hundred million dollars-"

"So, me leaving was a good thing?" Jemma pressed.

"Yeah," Fitz agreed, almost as if he was surprised with his concordance to her conclusion. "My accountant thinks you should ruin my life more often. But Jemma…" He gritted his teeth and folded his hands in his lap. "I can't go through that again."

"Fitz, I am sorry," Jemma apologized, scooting closer to him. "I am really, truly, very sorry. Could you ever forgive me? Please?"

Leaning back into the black, leather pillows, Fitz sighed. "Okay. I…I forgive you."

"Thank you so much." She suddenly developed to urge to hug him, to thank him for giving her a second chance, but she resisted, not wanting to give him any mixed signals, given that they were sort of in a murky grey area right now regarding their relationship. After all, what were they, friends? Lovers? Boss and employee? Or a mixture of all of the above? It was confusing, if not exceedingly complicated, to say the least. "So…where do we go from here?"

"How about we go back to doing what we do best," Fitz suggested. "Being friends."

Jemma sighed in relief. "I would love that."

"Me too."

"So we're good?"

Fitz nodded slowly. "We're good."

"Good," Jemma concluded. Her voice took on a soft, teasing tone. "Feelings talk adjourned."

Fitz stared back at her in silence, his smile not quite reflecting the happiness she had expected from their consensus. "Alright, I have to leave now, I have to get up early and start the job search," Jemma commented, rising to her feet and making her way (rather slowly– not that she was dilly-dallying on purpose or anything) towards the door.

Behind her, Fitz grimaced, squinting his eyes shut and bringing his hands to his head. "Oh god, oh god, oh god."

Jemma turned around and grinned knowingly. "Oh god, oh god, oh god, what?"

Shaking his head in disbelief, Fitz stood up to meet her gaze. "I can't believe I'm about to say this…Jemma, do you want your old job back?"

"Yes, yes! Thank you so much!" she exclaimed, and that was when she decided it was the right moment to hug him. As soon as she released him, Jemma leaned her head back and sighed, letting go of the anticipation of a potentially hectic, stressful morning the next day. "Now I don't have to get up early."

Fitz wordlessly led her to the door, standing awkwardly next to her as she reached for the door knob. "Well…I'll see you tomorrow, chef," he finally said.

The twinkle in his eyes pulled her in, and for a second she wanted to not just be his friend and personal chef. However, once again, she kept her feelings in check. Having sex with the boss her first night at work was a mistake she still regretted, she recalled briefly, and she did not want to make the same mistake again. "See you tomorrow, boss."

As she heard the lock click behind her, Jemma reclined against the wood, pausing for a moment to collect her thoughts before heading towards the elevator. If she believed so ardently that she and Fitz were destined to be together, that he was "the one"…why was their journey so incredibly tenuous, vulnerable to even the most petty of disagreements?

Fitz might have been right all those months ago…maybe the cosmos were against them after all.


	15. What Comes Around, Goes Around

_From jemmamaximoff: "Revenge isn't justice."_

 _I've had this scene in mind for quite a while now! I just hope it translated well onto paper (or the screen lol). Enjoy!_

* * *

 **~Canon-divergent, 2x19 "The Dirty Half Dozen"~**

"Jemma?" Fitz's voice trembled behind her, bouncing across the dark corridors behind him. "Put the gun down."

She didn't respond, just shifted her balance and cocked her gun so that it aimed at Ward's forehead. Her stance was rigid, legs locked and shoulders taut, but Fitz wasn't fooled by the gun shaking in her hands. Ward convulsed just inches away from her, twitching every time he attempted to move a muscle.

Every fiber of Jemma's being told her to pull the trigger, to end once and for all the trail of bodies Ward had left behind. Plan B had been lingering in her mind ever since she packed the splinter bomb in her sack along with the medical supplies needed to treat Mike and Lincoln. She was aware her throwing capabilities weren't the best so she turned to science, concocting a batch of a paralytic that could render a victim motionless in less than a minute. Ward may have been a skilled agent, observant and quick on his feet, but even he wasn't fast enough to react to the needle being thrust into his thigh.

The distance between the needle and his leg was negligible, Ward's eyes too focused on her own steadfast gaze to notice the syringe poised and ready behind her back. And she took advantage of the situation, sinking the needle into his skin and waited as the paralytic hit his bloodstream.

She had to admit, watching him suffer, groaning in frustration at his inability to move, was oddly satisfying. It was vengeance, yes, for all the pain Ward caused them, caused _Fitz_ , in the past, but even though she was usually morally steered in the right direction…this felt right. Justified, in a way.

"I can't let him get away, Fitz." Jemma refused to look back at him, to take her eyes off of the man who had almost stolen everything from her. "You of all people should understand that."

"I do understand, Jemma," Fitz replied gently. "I do. But killing him will not heal my hypoxia like it never happened. Killing him won't change what he did in the past. Revenge isn't justice."

"But neither will letting him live!" she retaliated. Feeling the anger seep through her like a tidal wave, she took in a deep breath, her hold on the gun almost slipping as she did so. "And I made a promise to myself. A promise I intend to keep."

Jemma steadied her hands, her thumb hovering just inches above the trigger, determined to hold her ground. "As much as we hate it, we need his help, "Fitz continued, and his voice took on a pleading tone. "Coulson would not be happy if he found out you shot our informant."

She saw where he was going, of course– how many times had Coulson and May preached to them that as agents, emotion shouldn't cloud their judgment, that the safety of both their team and civilians always came first? But she _was_ protecting her team. Protecting them from this duplicitous traitor in their midst.

"I'm sure he could find another one," Jemma snapped, and she winced at the harshness (and absurdity) of her words. Not many people out there could have possibly been in contact with HYDRA, SHIELD, and the Inhumans like Ward had. As much as she hated to admit it, Ward was their only hope of gathering Hydra intel on the Inhumans.

But he was a threat. He was dangerous. He couldn't be trusted. He lied to all of them multiple times, tricked them with friendly comradery and pitiful stories about his abusive childhood, only to throw all of that away to follow John Garrett. He could easily kill all of them if he changed his mind about their temporary alliance. From the moment she made her promise to kill him, after meticulously weighing the pros and cons of the situation currently presented to them, her decision was final, no matter what the lingering cost may be.

As unwavering as her stance appeared to be, she was unprepared for the warm hand that Fitz placed on her shoulder. "I tried to deprive Ward of oxygen while he was in his cell," Fitz said softly. Muffled groans from Ward appeared to justify his statement. "And I tried to attack him on the quinjet when we first picked him up. I know what it feels like to _hate_." His grip tightened slightly, enough for her to notice. "But it didn't make me feel any better, Jemma. If you're looking for closure, this isn't the way to obtain it."

Jemma glanced down at Ward, still jerking at her feet, and then focused on her gun. "Okay," she conceded reluctantly. "I understand. But you're going to have to pry this out of my hands first. I don't trust myself not to pull the trigger."

Her stance relaxed as Fitz maneuvered cautiously around her, using his good hand to pluck the gun out of her curled fingers. "We have to get going," he said, pocketing the gun after putting on the safety. "Mike and Lincoln both need to be evacuated and treated immediately for their injuries."

Despite his rush, Jemma thrust a finger in his face, stopping him in his tracks. "One second." She turned her attention to Ward, crouching down so that his wide eyes met her scowl. "The paralytic will wear off in ten minutes. After the effects have exited your bloodstream and the mission is complete, you will not speak about what just transpired. In exchange for your silence, I will not attempt to harm you unless you threaten the life of one of our own."

She glanced back briefly at Fitz, who was eyeing her every move intensely, before finishing her speech. "And if you dare betray us again, or hurt someone I care about, that _we_ care about…" Leering forward suddenly, she relished in the fear dancing in Ward's eyes. "I _will_ kill you. And I won't regret it one bit."

Satisfied, Jemma straightened and joined Fitz near the doorway when she was confident Ward still could not move. "Alright, I'm ready now."

She let Fitz pull her along as they made their way through the dark, towards the rendezvous point Coulson had designated upon invading the compound. With only the beam of Fitz's flashlight to guide them, she held onto his hand tightly. "Wait…" Fitz stopped abruptly, causing Jemma to almost crash into him. "Wasn't Bakshi supposed to be with Ward? Where is he?"

He glanced back at her for reassurance, to which she responded with a solemn nod. "Don't worry. I took care of him already."

Fitz opened his mouth, most likely to try and delve deeper into the details of Bakshi's disappearance, but Jemma strode past him before he could ask, melting into the darkness.

* * *

 _I currently have 7 more requests in my queue for FitzSimmons drabbles! Again, don't know when I'll write/post them , but it'll be a surprise when I do ;)_


	16. That Time of the Month

_From wakandaperthshire (sentence meme): "Shut up, I am a delight!"_

 _This is basically the only thing I've been able to write since I arrived in California this summer. Thank you procrastination!_

* * *

Jemma sighed in dismay as she examined a piece of paper laying on the desk in front of her. "Really, Agent Ashby? This was all you documented in your last inventory sweep?"

The young lab technician shrugged. "Sorry, Dr. Simmons, we've been running out of supplies for a while now due to budget cuts and lagging deliveries. I'm afraid there's not much we can do about it."

"You've got to be joking," Jemma groaned, and her hands instinctively rose to massage her temples. "We needed half of these reagents yesterday! When will the next delivery arrive?"

Upon discovering that the next delivery would be the next day (containing disposable items such as latex gloves and pipette tips instead of the chemical reagents she _really_ needed), the corners of her mouth pulled down into a deep frown. "Good god, that sets our progress back at least two days. Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she demanded, shooting an accusatory glare at Agent Ashby.

"I-I only just found this out yesterday." Dr. Ashby threw his hands up in surrender. "I swear, if I had done it a day earlier, I would have-"

"Okay, I get it." She waved off his excuses. "I'll have a word with Dr. Fitz on increasing inventory checks to twice a week. You are dismissed."

"Are you sure? Maybe I can-"

"No!" Jemma barked, causing the agent to take a cautionary step back. "I mean," she adjusted. "It's been a long day. Go back home and get some rest. You've done enough."

Fitz observed from his own desk as Dr. Ashby moped out of the laboratory. "Rough day?" he asked, his eyebrows scrunching in concern.

"You can say that again," Jemma grumbled. As much as she tried, she couldn't peel her eyes off of the abysmal numbers in front of her, much less relive everything else that had gone wrong in the lab lately. And all the worrying certainly did nothing to mitigate her pounding headache. "More like a rough week. Since when did we hire such incompetent lab technicians?"

"Jemma." Fitz crouched down behind her, resting his forearms on the back of her chair. "Are you sure it's the assistants and not you?"

"Me?" she cried out, indignant. "Why in the world would it be me?"

Fitz winced at the shrillness of her tone. "Well for starters, you're a smidge more defensive than usual. And that's the third time you've snapped at someone today." He pointed at the doorway. "Dr. Ashby practically sprinted home after you yelled at him!"

"I didn't _yell_ at him," Jemma huffed. "I merely explained the dire of our situation and expressed some frustration. And it doesn't help that the new Director is funneling in more funds to build a new headquarters by taking away money from the science division!"

"Don't worry, I'm searching for other job options." Jemma's eyes closed as Fitz pressed his fingertips into her tense shoulders. "Dr. Radcliffe may have a place for us in his lab, said we're welcome to collaborate with him anytime."

His reassurance caused her to relax into his touch and she leaned her head back, slowly feeling the tension release its hold. "Jemma…" Fitz's tone was slow, hesitant, tracing the thin line of condescension. "Are you on your-" He glanced around the room before whispering in her ear. "Period?"

"You don't need to say it like it's Lord Voldemort, you know," Jemma snapped. She whirled around to face him. "And really? You want to discuss this now in front of our esteemed coworkers?" Even she could hear the unnecessary sarcasm in her voice by now, but she held her ground and chose to ignore the revelation.

"They're leaving for the day," Fitz responded, exasperated. He gestured at the remaining agents cleaning up the lab. "Come on, you know you're overreacting."

"And what makes you think that?"

"I've known you for ten years, Jemma. You're a bit of a nightmare on your period."

"Shut up, I am a _delight_ , thank you very much!"

Her best friend shot her a pointed look. "Okay, you may have a point," Jemma conceded. "I'm sorry."

"I don't think I'm the one you should be apologizing to." Fitz's "subtle" nods towards the lab technicians did not go unnoticed.

Sighing, Jemma lingered at her desk, pondering a bit before reluctantly standing up. "Attention everyone!" she called out. Startled, the other agents stopped what they were doing. "I have an announcement to make!"

As soon as she observed their reactions, Fitz's point clicked in her head. A couple of the lab assistants waited curiously for her to continue while some of the younger agents cowered in the corners, hoping to escape her attention. She wrung out her hands before continuing. "I know this week has been quite rough, and I have realized that I haven't been facilitating a proper, supportive work environment. If I have been excessively harsh to you since the start of this week, I apologize for my behavior."

Fitz nudged her from behind and she narrowed her eyes at him before relaxing her posture, trying to maintain her professional composure. "During our next meeting, I will bring in tea and pastries to commend our most recent discoveries. Make sure to spread the word to your coworkers that have already departed today."

A collective murmur spread throughout the lab. "Not so fast!" Jemma interjected. "I expect all of you to fully contribute to our discussions as usual, as unpreparedness will not be tolerated. I'll see you all next week."

Solemn nods exuded their thanks and Jemma was relieved to see a few more smiles among the agents that hadn't been present before. Bowing her head, she walked brusquely out the door, unable to see the wink Fitz flashed at his coworkers behind her.


	17. Late Nights in Lab

_Prompt from agentkatiebug (sentence meme): "Now, just hold on a diddly darn minute."_

* * *

"Fitz?" Jemma's voice bounced across his bunk as she opened his door and peered inside. Everything was left exactly where it had been before, in an organized chaos only Fitz understood. Books and papers littered Fitz's desk, which stood below the picture of space that had inspired their second (or was it their third?) kiss, and his sheets were bundled up in a lump on his bed, a pleasant reminder of the chain of events that had transpired last night. She smiled at the memory, but it faded as she was reminded of what the room was missing: Fitz.

She stole a glance at her wrist watch. _12:01 am_. Having cleaned up her work station a few hours ago, she did remember noticing Fitz still working at his computer as she patted his shoulder before leaving. Was he really still working so late at night?

Come to think of it, she had conducted experiments at absurd hours of the night as well. But this was the only private time they got to spend with each other during the day. Of course when she desired his company the most, he was absorbed in his latest creation. Typical.

Jemma plodded down the hallway to the lab where Fitz was, as predicted, was huddled over something at his lab bench. Stifling a yawn, she rapped on the metal door frame. "Fitz?"

His head shot up briefly, eyes glazed over and curls in disarray, before attending to his project once more. "Hey Jem, I'll be done in a second. I just have to-"

The unlit blowtorch in his hand suddenly crashed onto the lab bench, knocking whatever he had been working on to the floor. "Bollocks," Fitz muttered under his breath, hastily dropping to his knees to clean everything up. "Just hold on a diddly darn minute and I'll be there."

When he didn't hear the sound of footsteps leaving, Fitz paused and glanced back at Jemma, who was smirking at him with raised eyebrows and her arms crossed in front of her chest. "What did you say?"

He smiled cheekily. "You tell me."

Rolling her eyes, she approached him and gently tugged on his sleeve. "Alright, you need to get to bed. No more work for today."

Fitz hastily collected his items off the floor and shoved them into a nearby drawer. "But I just started this today and it's _really_ important that I have this all planned out by tomorrow-"

"Your toys can wait," Jemma replied sternly. Knowing that he couldn't resist what he had dubbed her "puppy dog eyes," she widened her eyes slightly and pouted. "Besides, I need you."

Fitz sighed. "Are you sure it can't wait?"

"No, Fitz. I _need_ you. Now."

He narrowed his eyes at her, confused. "What are you-" Then suddenly it clicked. "Oh! _That_ kind of need." He blushed and averted his gaze at the ground. "Long day and sexual tension and all of that."

Jemma's eyebrows arched and she grinned. Despite them being _very_ sexually active for the past week or so, Fitz's befuddlement over anything regarding their bedroom entertainment never ceased to amuse her. "And the company would be nice, too. It's been rough ever since Lincoln decided to-" She gulped.

Fitz nodded, lips pursed tersely together. "I know," he responded softly. He wrapped an arm around Jemma's shoulders and led her out of the lab. "It's been a hard adjustment."

They fell into silence and their pace slackened as Jemma rested her head on Fitz's shoulder. It was little moments such as these, meandering through the quiet hallways filled with ghosts of years past, that she really appreciated Fitz's presence. She held onto him tighter and in turn he pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Diddly darn? Really? Where on earth did you pick that up?"

Fitz groaned. "You're going to hold this over me, aren't you? Along with my cursed theory?"

Jemma laughed, nuzzling her head deeper into his shoulder. "You know me so well."

She never found out what exactly he had been making that day, not until six months later when a diamond resting on top on a handcrafted ring carved into the shape of an infinity sign fell into her lap on Christmas morning, and she didn't need to see Fitz kneeling at her side to know what it meant.

* * *

 _Got a couple more drabble requests in my tumblr inbox to fulfill (and no idea when the hell I'll be able to write them, thanks busy real life), so be on the lookout for those for the next couple of months. And once those are done, I'll start taking drabble requests again :)._


	18. Cravings

_From grapehyasynth: "That stuff can't be good for you."_

 _So this tumblr user sent me this a long time ago. Probably a year ago at the most. I took a very long fanfiction hiatus (this past year) and deleted a lot of the prompts I got before in order to start out on a clean slate, but I kept a couple of prompts that were the most recent at the time. This was one of them._

* * *

When Fitz got home from work that night, the kitchen table had suddenly turned into a smorgasbord of various foods. Meats and cheeses had been placed on one side, condiments on the other, while various random foods such as peanut butter, pickles, and bacon were grouped in the middle. In the midst of all the food sat his wife, five months pregnant, spreading something brown and gooey onto a piece of white bread. On the plate sat another piece of white bread piled high with a food combination that even he, a person who would eat almost anything, couldn't imagine putting into his stomach all at once.

He approached her curiously. "Hey honey, I'm home from work." Pecking her on the cheek, he swiped a piece of bacon and bit into it with satisfaction. "Whatcha doing?"

"It's a science experiment!" Jemma chirped. "I'm trying to create a sandwich that will satisfy all of my pregnancy cravings at once."

Amused, Fitz shook his head and chuckled. Only Jemma would come up with a science experiment to conduct not only while she was pregnant, but one that was directly _related t_ o her pregnancy, nonetheless. "Let's see…" He peered over her shoulder. "What do we have here…prosciutto, buffalo mozzarella, bacon, jalapenos, chips and…is that Nutella?"

Jemma nodded. "That one is new. I think the chocolate somehow brings out the taste of the bacon."

"Ah."

Fitz continued to observe her sandwich-making as she paused to scan over her buffet. "It just needs one more thing…" Jemma murmured. She stared at all the foods in front of her, perplexed.

"Pesto aioli?" Fitz suggested, half-joking but also half-serious. After all, her sandwich _did_ have two-thirds of the ingredients that were in her (nay, their) favorite sandwich.

"Yes!" Beaming, Jemma started to rise from her chair, but Fitz beat her to it, sliding the jar of aioli into her hand. "It's like we're psychically linked!"

Fitz snorted. "Or we just know each other really, _really_ well." He fought the urge to wink at her, wanting to imply a subtle sexual innuendo, but he had learned by now that Jemma wasn't very fond of his smart-ass comments while she was carrying a child. In the past she would've just rolled her eyes in exasperation, but now he just received short yet explosive bursts of anger and no way did he want to piss her off now, especially when she was in a good mood despite her drastic hormonal shifts and mood swings.

After applying the pesto aioli, Jemma took a huge bite and she closed her eyes in satisfaction. "Oh my god, this is amazing," she gushed, leaning her head back over the back of the chair.

"That stuff _can't_ be good for you," Fitz commented as he affectionately stroked Jemma's long chestnut locks, taking the time to gently massage her scalp in the process.

"This food is going to help create quite the baby girl," Jemma laughed, glancing up with him,eyes twinkling with adoration.

"Freakishly smart with a strange palette," Fitz joked. He paused, his fingers still immersed in her hair. "And maybe with an extra toe or two."

"Oh, hush!"

He kissed her forehead before meeting her lips with his, interlocking his fingers over her baby bump. However their baby came to be, and who knows where their daughter will end up after she is born– whatever the future will be for their family of three, they will get through it.

Together.

* * *

 _If you want to send me a prompt for my fitzsimmons drabbles, I'm nerdlove4thewin on tumblr!_


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